


Stockholm Syndrome

by softyjseo



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Amnesia, Angst, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Alteration, Mentions of Yutae, Model Yuta, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other additional characters to be added, Please dont read if you're not comfortable with this concept, Please read with caution, Psychological Torture, Sicheng has Erotomania, Suicide scene, TRIGGER WARNINGS IN AUTHOR'S NOTE, Torture, Violence, mention of self-harm, short term amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2019-10-08 09:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softyjseo/pseuds/softyjseo
Summary: ''We're finally together, my love, like how we were meant to be.''Yuta had everything. Fame, a lovely boyfriend, amazing friends and a career that was shooting for the stars and beyond. What he also had, unbeknownst to him, was his greatest nightmare edging closer and closer, unsuspected, hidden in the dark.





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!!
> 
> Welcome to Stockholm Syndrome, my Yuwin AU. Before you go on and read this, please read this note.
> 
> IMPORTANT:  
> Warnings: This story is dark. When I say dark I mean abduction, torture in multiple ways, mentions of suicide and a scene describing it. This work will talk about several mental illnesses, past abuse and the process of someone developing Stockholm Syndrome. I realize this is not for everyone, so please ask yourself if you can handle reading about this stuff. It's going to be graphic. Beware. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is FICTION. I don't genuinely believe what's going to happen in this story is okay in any shape or form. I don't think the characters are like this in real life nor do I support whatever Sicheng is doing. I'm writing this due to my interest in shows like Criminal Minds and I wanted to try my hand at writing a darker concept, something you rarely see on AO3. I've done as much research as I could possibly do, but feel free to correct me if you think I did something wrong. 
> 
> To anyone who feels as if though this story is not for them, please click away. I don't want you to get uncomfortable or maybe even triggered by the words I have written here. To anyone who proceeds with reading, I hope you enjoy my story, even though it has its dark events. 
> 
> This story is mainly a result of me watching too much Criminal Minds. It's a serious topic and if at any second you feel yourself becoming uncomfortable or you read something that you don't like, click away. Please protect yourself. Your mental state is important to me, and I don't want to harm it in any way. 
> 
> Proceed with caution.
> 
> love,  
> Dani. 
> 
> (this chapter was beta'd by [Ali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiurora/pseuds/seolarise_) , thank you!)

The club was loud and Yuta was already nursing a headache, his head thumping. The only reason he even went to the club was to humour Jungwoo, who had a rough day during their shoot that afternoon. Jungwoo wanted to drink away his worry, his nerves and because Yuta knew what it felt like to be out of the country for the very first time on an on-location shoot, he decided it was best to just go with the younger and have some fun.

He regretted his decision almost immediately as they went inside, the music only making his headache worse and the bass coursing through his body like a tremor. Yuta wasn’t one for partying, preferring to sit on his balcony or couch with a good book, so this was definitely not his scene.

Yuta’s head spun from the headache combined with the noise of the people and music around him. This hadn’t been a good idea.

Jungwoo handed him a drink, something sparkly and yellow, as they got to the bar. ‘’Drink it! It’s really good!’’ The younger yelled, probably hoping Yuta could even hear him over the loud music. Yuta nodded, grateful that he managed to catch up on it, and took a sip. Immediately, he pressed his lips together in a fine line.

The alcohol was barely noticeable, but the drink was way too sweet for Yuta’s taste. Even his sweet tooth couldn’t handle the amount of sugar in this beverage. ‘’This is gross!’’ Yuta yelled, his face contorting in disgust. Jungwoo didn’t hear him, already too engrossed in eyeing a complete stranger across the room.

‘’Go after him!’’ Yuta yelled, nodding his head. Yuta wasn’t single, happily together with his boyfriend of four years named Taeyong, but he knew Jungwoo was and so, he urged the boy to go ahead.

‘’Should I?’’ He yelled back, a smile spreading on his face. Yuta nodded, stupidly taking another sip of his drink and regretting it a second later. ‘’Alright! Wish me luck!’’ and with that, Jungwoo was gone. Yuta was left sitting alone at the bar, drink in one hand and the phone in the other.

His phone only had five percent left and so he quickly texted Taeyong his whereabouts before wishing him a goodnight, promising to call him the next morning before their shoot would start up again.

Lucky for Jungwoo, they weren’t starting until late in the afternoon, the next set of pictures having to be taken while the sun was low in the sky, so he could go all out. Yuta, on the other hand, knew what this meant; He’d have to nurse Jungwoo back to health before they started.

Yuta sighed, getting up to look for the bathrooms. He found them after a few minutes of manoeuvring back and forth between people. He returned back to his seat a couple minutes later, his bladder now empty and his head ache even worse.

Yuta took a sip of his drink, not wanting to waste Jungwoo’s money, and realized he should’ve probably not left it at the bar. He turned to look around, not seeing anyone looking at him and he shrugged.

His eyes were trained on the crowd, finding Jungwoo grinding against the boy Yuta encouraged him to talk to, and Yuta smiled. Jungwoo’s career was just starting off and so the boy was always on guard, not wanting to make mistakes that could possibly tarnish his career before it had even started.

Since they weren’t in South Korea, instead in a small Chinese town, Jungwoo could let loose. It was his first ever photoshoot on location and so his popularity wasn’t that big. Yuta, on the other hand, had seen some paparazzi follow him around while he was going shopping this morning.

He got used to it.

Yuta felt his eyes grow tired and blamed it on the headache. Their hotel wasn’t far from here, maybe three blocks or so, and so Yuta sent Jungwoo a quick text on where he was going and why he was leaving, before putting his drink down and making his way towards the entrance, ready to leave.

It didn’t take long for Yuta to grow drowsy, his vision blurry and his mind hazy. He slumped against the closest thing he could find, a street lantern that was flicking on and off, and groaned. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He didn’t have much to drink.

Drink. Fuck. He had forgotten to take his drink with him to the bathroom. Yuta freaked out almost immediately, knowing exactly where this was going. Instead of being able to do something about it, though, he fell to the pavement. He grunted, pain spreading in his knees and legs.

He couldn’t move, his arms numb as his chin rested on the sidewalk. Yuta heard footsteps getting closer, light padding of feet against the pavement of the sidewalk which reminded him of the way Jungwoo walked, and Yuta visibly relaxed as he felt two arms lifting him up. He closed his eyes and slipped away, letting Jungwoo carry him toward their hotel.

 

Yuta had no idea where he was. He felt hazy, his eyes heavy. He tried to move, but his arms were restrained by a rough sort of rope, cutting into his skin with every movement. His throat was itchy and dry, swallowing hard to do as he struggled against the rope.

His ankles were locked in place as well, tied to each other by something steel, stronger than rope. Fear took over his senses, his eyes unable to register anything in the darkness. Yuta opened his mouth in a silent scream, nothing coming out other than a heave of breath.

The adrenaline surging through his body urged him to move again, but he failed and yelped in pain as the rope cut deeper into his skin.

It seemed as if though the yelp Yuta had managed to get out signalled something, or someone, of his consciousness, because Yuta stilled as he heard a stumble and a door opening. The slight bit of light illuminated the room, a sliver of the room coming into view and Yuta’s eyes burned as a light was turned on right above him.

Yuta couldn’t move even if he wanted to, watching as someone ascended from the wooden stairs. His eyes focused again, and the courage sunk down to the tips of his toes as Yuta realized where he was. He was in a basement. Tied to a bed.

Before Yuta had time to freak out, the person who had just entered the room took a step forward, letting the blanket of dark fall from him as he stepped into the light.

The man was around Yuta’s age, maybe a bit younger. His hair was a mess, strands of it missing, leaving it uneven and tangled. His eyes were bloodshot and Yuta guessed he had been crying - Which, to him, was quite odd, considering the situation. His eyes were small and his lips pouty. He resembled a child.

‘’You’re awake.’’ Apart from a slight accent while he spoke Japanese, Yuta couldn’t tell the boy wasn’t actually Japanese. He assumed he was still in China, after all. Yuta forced himself to nod.

He wanted to scream and beg for the man to let him go, but Yuta had seen enough criminal drama’s or documentaries to know that kidnappings almost never ended that way.

Screaming wouldn’t do anything, it would only result in the man getting angry and Yuta wasn’t sure what the other was capable of other than kidnapping him.

‘’You’re much more handsome in real life than you are in your pictures.’’ Yuta’s eyes widened. The man knew him, knew who Yuta was but Yuta had no idea who this man was. The comforting smile that adorned the man’s face was the exact opposite to how he was acting. Yuta hated the unpredictability.

The man walked up to the bed Yuta was on, sitting down on the edge. Yuta would have scooted away if he had been able to, but the metal rope wrapped around his ankles was preventing him from moving even the slightest amount.

‘’We’re finally together again, Yuta.’’ Shivers ran down Yuta’s spine at the man’s voice, his words so sincere it scared him to death. Yuta had never seen this man before, there was no _again._ There was no together.

‘’Shut up, freak.’’ Yuta spat. He struggled against the rope tied around his wrists, grunting as he felt the material burning his skin. The man reacted almost immediately, standing up from the bed and walking toward the stairs.

‘’I don’t appreciate being called a freak, my love.’’ Yuta let out a scream as pain coursed through his body, an electric shock running through his veins and setting his senses alight. The man was standing on the stairs, a remote in hand and a grin on his face.

‘’I didn’t want to hurt you so fast, but you need to learn to obey.’’ The quick change of behaviour had Yuta reeling, his mind trying to get its shit together after being shocked. Yuta scanned the bed, gasping as he discovered multiple cables running along the mattress, coming back together as the restraints on his ankles.

The man stood on the stairs for a while, just staring, before walking up them. To Yuta’s relief, he left the lights in the basement on so that he wasn’t completely in the dark. The door locked behind the man.

Yuta whimpered, his eyes scanning the room for any sort of clue on where he was and who he was taken by. He could only find pots and pans, canned food and several other long lasting foods, but no clues about his whereabouts.

He let his head hang, the back of his head hitting the hard pillow on the bed with a sob. His mind wandered to Taeyong, his boyfriend of four years, who was probably growing worried in their apartment in Seoul, waiting for Yuta to call. Yuta had no idea for how long he had been out, but he assumed the worst. Maybe a few days.

There were probably search groups on the hunt for him now, which sparked some hope in Yuta. He was going to be saved and this bastard was going to get punished. Yuta had faith in it.

He struggled against the ropes again, trying to break them loose by movement, but was forced to give up after a while of trying due to the exhaustion seeping into his bones. Yuta had no idea what time it was or for how long he had been awake, for how long he had been on this bed, but one thing was certain: he wasn’t going to stay in this position much longer.

Yuta stayed quiet for a moment, trying to hear any noises around him. He could hear the footsteps of his kidnapper above him, but other than that it was completely silent. He was somewhere remote, a farm maybe, or this basement was just incredibly sound proof.

A soft hum of the electricity in the room was a background noise, something Yuta only picked up on because the footsteps upstairs had stopped and Yuta shivered, scared of getting shocked again.

‘’ _You need to learn to obey._ ’’ Yuta recoiled at the thought of the stranger calling him ‘ _my love_ ’ and training him to obey. He shuddered, cowering in on himself on the bed. He was cold, the sweater he had been wearing to the club replaced by a thin shirt, his pants gone and only his boxers protecting his legs from the cold.

Yuta blinked away a tear forming in the corner of his eyes, not wanting to show any sort of weakness. If there’s one thing the documentaries Taeyong has a weird obsession with have taught Yuta, it is to show no weakness when in these type of situations.

Yuta imagined Taeyong on the couch, crying in panic right about now. He was worried, his boyfriend completely abandoned his own needs when someone else was in need of help and Yuta was terrified Taeyong would lose himself.

He imagined Jungwoo feeling guilty for losing sight of him, losing Yuta in the club and letting him get drugged. Wait, was that even what happened? Yuta couldn’t remember. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to focus more, but nothing came.

It was all a haze, black spots filling his memories instead of the actual events at hand and Yuta groaned, angry at himself for letting this happen.

‘’Hey fucker! If you can hear me, you’re fucking crazy! Let me go, you psychopath!’’ Yuta knew this wasn’t going to help, knew he shouldn’t be doing this because this is exactly what the man craved, but he couldn’t help himself as images of Taeyong crying entered his mind.

There was a split second of nothing until Yuta was shocked again. This time, the electricity was stronger. Yuta screamed out in agony, struggling against the ropes. Tugging on the cables was a bad idea, leftover electricity giving him tiny shocks.

Yuta had no idea on what to do. He looked around in a haze, eyeing the walls and corners of the room for _something_ that could mean the other man was watching Yuta.

It took a minute but Yuta’s eyes zeroed in on a small, circular camera in the left corner, right next to where a part of the stairs was hidden behind a wall.

Yuta sighed, letting his legs relax as much as they could with the restraints keeping them bent, slugging his arms so the rope wasn’t cutting into his skin anymore. He was too tired, even if he managed to cut himself loose, Yuta would never be able to overpower the other man and run outside to wherever the fuck he was.

 

Yuta had no idea how much time had passed before the door unlocked again, the stranger walking down the stairs with a platter of what Yuta guessed to be food. Which meant his kidnapper didn’t want him to die. Not yet, at least.

‘’Are you okay?’’ There was a change of behaviour, no characteristics visible of someone who had just given an electric shock to someone else without batting an eye. Yuta frowned.

‘’Do I look okay to you?’’ Throwing the ‘try to be nice so maybe they’ll release me’ agenda out of the window, Yuta decided it was best to be honest. If he was going to die here, he’d die with his dignity intact.

Not that he wanted to die. His career was skyrocketing, he had a lovely boyfriend and Yuta was happy, content and ready to take on the world. He wasn’t ready to die in someone’s basement.

‘’No, but I can’t take the restraints off. Not yet, at least. I’m sorry.’’ The stranger seemed kind, awfully so, and it was such an incredible change in his behaviour it left Yuta feeling somewhat bad for the man.

It went against everything Yuta believed in -the Japanese boy was a firm believer of people who did bad, horrible things deserving punishment and pain- but he felt his heart tug for the boy in front of him. He looked sad, devastated and if Yuta focused enough he could see the wetness still clear in his eyes. The boy had been crying, much like he had done before.

He rolled his eyes, though.

‘’You’re not sorry.’’ Yuta’s throat was dry and so his voice was scratchy. His words didn’t hold as much power as he wanted them to have, but there was nothing he could do. Yuta eyed the platter and was relieved to see a bottle of water on there and a sandwich. He wasn’t hungry, which was strange because he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten anything, but the thirst was suddenly creeping up on him.

‘’I am. I wish we didn’t have to meet this way.’’ Yuta frowned. If the man didn’t want to meet him this way, then why did he do this?

‘’Then why?’’ Yuta couldn’t refrain himself from asking. The man halted his movements, gripping the water bottle a little tighter in his hand as he turned to look at Yuta. Without saying anything, he grabbed a hold of Yuta’s chin.

Yuta pulled back, moving his chin away. ‘’Don’t. Touch. Me.’’ Yuta spat, his eyes trained on the wall next to the bed. The stranger didn’t say anything, just snaked his hand around Yuta’s chin again but firmer this time.

He turned it back to him, the bottle of water now at Yuta’s lips. Against all his principles, Yuta opened his mouth to drink some of the water. It felt good to finally have liquid in his mouth, the water soothing his sore throat a bit.

‘’Because, my love, there isn’t another way for us to meet and finally be together.’’ Yuta shook his head, ripping his face away from the water bottle and swallowing to answer. ‘’There is no together,’’ Yuta replied, anger in his voice.

‘’And I’m not your love!’’ Yuta struggled against his restraints again, grunting and screaming. The stranger sat on the bed, shaking his head at Yuta.

‘’I’ll come back later when you’re calm again, love.’’ Yuta growled, shaking from head to toe as he tried to rip himself free.

‘’The police will catch you! You’ll pay f-‘’ Yuta was cut off by an electric shock coursing through his veins again, a little less hard than last time. He screamed in pain, his body contorting in agony.

Yuta didn’t know how much electricity a human body could take, didn’t know how much his body could handle before it would shut down, but he hoped it was a lot. The shocks continued on in his body, his hair on edge.

Yuta continued screaming as the stranger walked back up the stairs and locked the door. He kept on screaming when all he heard was silence and his screams became louder the moment he realized the water had been tampered with.

His eyelids grew heavy and his brain sort of just, shut off. There were dark black spots blocking his vision and before Yuta knew it, he was slipping away.

The last thing that filled his ears were the soft tunes of a song Yuta vaguely recognized but couldn’t put a name on, his conscious slipping away so fast it was hard to process anything other than his own screaming till everything went dark.


	2. 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same warnings as the previous note apply.
> 
> if you're not sure if you can handle it, please think before you proceed.

It was quiet, awfully so. The only thing Yuta could hear was the hum of the lamp above the bed, casting the room in a soft yellow light. His mouth was dry and his brain hazy, legs numb and arms aching from his restrains. He didn’t have the energy to panic, even though he felt like he wanted to scream.

Yuta recognized the room from somewhere, but it felt like a distant memory. Like it had happened years ago. He turned his head softly, the heavy feeling making the movement much more difficult than it should be.

The Japanese boy his eyes widened, a red can of _something_ Yuta couldn’t read grabbing his attention. Suddenly the memory of a red haired boy flashed through his mind, leaving him confused and somehow saddened even more. He had no idea who that boy was, his memory failing him, only taking him as far as the boy smiling at him from a distance.

Yuta frowned, closing his eyes and _focusing._ He wanted to know who this boy was and why he was present in his memories without him knowing _why._

He was interrupted from scanning the room once more by a door opening. Yuta didn’t have the energy to look who was coming down the stairs, his ears registering the loud thumps of heavy shoes but not placing a face to said movements.

_Taeyong._

The red haired boy his name was Taeyong. Yuta gasped, eyes wide. _Taeyong._ It felt awfully familiar, the name bouncing against the walls of Yuta’s brain but not quite finding its spot, its designated memory or person.

Yuta was left clueless again, watching as a male he somewhat recognized walked over to him. He sat down on the foot of the bed without a word, leaving Yuta wondering why he was there. Why Yuta was there, in the first place.

‘’How are you?’’ The male’s voice was deep, expression emotionless. Yuta hated it. A feeling of anxiety spread through his chest as he watched the male scoot closer, leaving Yuta to move away to make space.

‘’I—I don’t know.’’ Yuta responded, throat dry and voice scratchy. He, in fact, didn’t know how he was feeling. He was confused, mostly, slightly scared and panicked. The other male nodded, placing a hand closer to Yuta’s leg as if he wanted to touch it. Yuta scooted his leg away as far as he could, making the other grab it forcefully and putting it back in place.

Yuta yelped, the pull hurting his leg.

‘’Who are you?!’’ Yuta yelled, suddenly angry. ‘’And who is Taeyong?’’ He continued, wrestling against the restraints on his wrist and ankles. The other man was up in a flash, his eyes wide and hair a mess with the way he was running his hands through it in a sense of panic.

‘’You—he—you’re not supposed to—how do you know who?’’ His voice was trembling and Yuta could feel fear spreading from his chest to his feet. The other man was up the stairs in a second, mumbling and yelling random sentences to himself that Yuta couldn’t understand because it was a completely different language. It left him confused and anxiety ridden on the bed, clutching the ropes that kept his hands tied to the bed for leverage.

‘’I thought—the drugs!—they’re supposed to—make you forget!’’ Yuta’s eyes widened as he watched the male descend from the stairs with something that looked an awful lot like a baseball bat, his first instinct to move away from the threat. He was stopped, however, the restraints chaffing his skin as he yelped in pain. What was going on? Where was he? What drugs was this man talking about? What was Yuta not supposed to remember?

Was he not supposed to remember Taeyong? Vague flashes of light and people cheering? Was he not supposed to remember people’s voices complimenting him even though Yuta had no idea who they were or _what_ they were complimenting him for?

The man stopped walking next to the bed, baseball raised behind his shoulder and the Japanese male whimpered, closing his eyes and awaiting the impact. One, two, three, four seconds and nothing came. Yuta let out a sigh, a mix of relief and anxiety, at the fifth second, opening his eyes on the sixth.

The other man was crying, tears streaming down his face and Yuta felt his heart curl in his chest. Why was he empathizing with this man? Who even was he to begin with?

‘’You’re—why won’t you forget!’’ The man exclaimed, throwing the baseball onto the bed without caution. Yuta screamed in pain as the heavy object hit his knee, pain shooting through his body and resonating in his leg as he cried out.

‘’I’m sorry!’’ The man yelled, taking the baseball bat off the bed in an instant. ‘’I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—fuck!’’ He was no longer speaking in normal tones, his voice hard and loud and making Yuta flinch with every word that left his mouth.

Before Yuta could say anything else, the man raised the baseball bat again. Yuta’s eyes widened, his arms and legs flailing despite the pain. ‘’Please don’t! Please don’t hit me.’’ He begged, voice high and desperate.

‘’I’ll—I’ll do anything! Anything! But—please, don’t hit me.’’ Tears were now streaming down Yuta’s face, his vision blurry and body exhausted. The other male seemed to notice Yuta’s distress. He lowered the baseball bat once again, this time dropping it onto the floor with a loud thud.

‘’I’m going to make you sleep again, Yuta.’’ Yuta nodded. He would’ve agreed with anything the other suggested, he just didn’t want to get hit again. The man walked over to a dresser, grabbing a water bottle off of it. Yuta witnessed as he dropped one tiny white tablet into the water, fizzling for a bit before dispersing into the water.

As the other man put it to Yuta’s lips, the Japanese boy closed his eyes. Red hair, loud voices and flashing lights was all he could remember. He had no idea who he was. All he knew was that his name was Yuta, he could speak Japanese and he wasn’t in a place where he was supposed to be.

He swallowed the odd tasting water down without complaining, watching as the male sat down on a chair on the other side of the room. Yuta felt hazy, his eyes closing slowly as he took a shaky breath.

 

Yuta was harshly awoken by someone tugging at his wrists. His eyes flew open, watching the man bend over him to take off his restraints. He looked angry, livid even, and Yuta whimpered at the thought. What had he done wrong?

‘’You’re still remembering!’’ The man yelled, his eyes filled with tears as he pulled Yuta off the bed with all his might. Almost immediately the Japanese male felt his knees buckle, legs too weak to carry him from the lack of movement he had had for the past weeks? Days? Yuta truly didn’t know.

‘’I—I don’t know what—what you’re talking about!’’ Yuta exclaimed as he curled in on himself on the floor, the concrete cold and uninviting. The other man bristled, grabbing Yuta’s arm before roughly turning him around.

Yuta could see the dishevelled look on the man’s face. The way his hair was uneven, ruffled and messy. He looked like he had been crying for a long time and Yuta just wanted to know _why_?

‘’You—You keep saying his—his fucking name! You’re mine!! Not his anymore!’’ Yuta felt a sting of pain spread across his cheeks. The man had hit him across the face. He felt his cheek burn up, the skin growing heated. Yuta whimpered as the man walked away. He didn’t have the energy to follow where he was going, but his eyes widened and adrenaline surged through his body as the man came back with a bucket, steam coming off of the top.

The only thing Yuta could do, could _think_ of, to protect himself was turning on his front. He was barely laid down before he felt the boiling water hit his back.

He surged forward, yelling out in pain. He wanted to move, crawl away or try to run but he couldn’t. The man was firmly standing on his ankle and if Yuta moved, he’d break the bones in his feet.

Yuta continued yelling as he felt his skin burn, his muscles tensing and his body reacting to the boiling hot water in the worst way possible. He could feel the sting and nothing else. His body was numb except for the pain on his back, fingers crooking against the concrete floor to find some sort of leverage and getting none.

It got too much, the pain and the way he could hear crying that wasn’t his own got too much for Yuta, and before he knew it he passed out again, body boiling and mind numb.

 

The next time Yuta awoke, he was in a different bed, a different room. It looked nothing like the basement he had woken up in before. It was sophisticated, old furniture littering the space. Pictures hung on the walls and soft music was playing, almost masking the soft sobs right next to him.

Yuta moved, wincing at the feeling in his back. There was something else, something cool against his skin. He moved a shaky hand to feel at his back and was met with a towel, ice cold water from melted ice cubes drenching his fingers.

The Japanese male was so confused. He turned his head to see the other man again. At first, Yuta panicked. He felt anxiety rush back into his system and he so desperately wanted to move, wanted to run, but he knew he wouldn’t get far. The other man would only get angry.

Yuta was hurting. His entire body felt like it was on fire, like someone was stabbing his muscles with tiny needles. He was so overwhelmed, presumably flashes of old memories running through his mind as he tried to connect them to _anything_ but returned empty handed.

He needed comfort, and oddly enough he found it in the way the other male was clutching his arm, sobbing into the pillow on the bed. Yuta felt guilt replace the anxiety, his sudden need for comfort giving it the last push before it was completely _gone._

‘’What—What’s your name?’’ Yuta winced as he felt how dry his throat really was. He sounded like he was sick.

The other man perked up, teary eyes looking at Yuta with stained cheeks and a smile on his face. ‘’You’re awake!’’ He exclaimed, eyes bright with joy. It made Yuta want to smile, too, and he had no idea why.

‘’I’m so sorry—So sorry for hurting you, my love.’’ The boy whimpered into Yuta’s shoulders, leaving Yuta confused and still not knowing who this man was. His love? Did he forget this man as well?

‘’ _You’re mine!! Not his anymore!_ ’’ the sentence rang through Yuta’s head. Who was the man talking about? Was he someone else’s before?

‘’Your name?’’ Yuta asked again, his voice lower than a whisper this time. He didn’t want to interrupt this man his moment of joy. How odd it may be.

The other man gasped, turning to sit up. Yuta, for some reason, felt himself mourn the loss of contact. He needed comfort. He was so confused.

‘’I’m _Sicheng_!’’ Yuta nodded as response, glad he finally had a name to put to this man his face. ‘’Is your back okay?’’ Sicheng asked, his eyes wide with guilt. Yuta shivered, nodding his head. ‘’It’s—alright, I think?’’ Sicheng smiled again, returning to his previous position to sit next to Yuta against the headboard of the bed.

Yuta felt his body relax as the other male latched onto him, quiet sobs leaving his mouth once again. ‘’I can’t believe you’re here—you’re all mine now.’’ Sicheng whispered and Yuta grew rigid for a second, previous anxiety returning for a moment in time before it ebbed away again. His body told him there was no need to be scared.

Yuta felt guilty for making Sicheng cry. He lifted his arm, draping it across Sicheng’s shoulder and the boy sobbed even harder, seemingly satisfied with Yuta’s actions.

There was a tiny side of Yuta screaming at him that this was wrong, a tiny portion of his brain that thrummed in the same rhythm as the pain on his back trying to tell him that he shouldn’t be doing this. That this wasn’t what he was supposed to do. But there was also a part of him that needed the comfort, that felt guilty and empathy for the crying boy in his arms. Yuta didn’t know which side was supposed to win, but for now he let the confusion fade to the back of his head, seeking out the solace in Sicheng’s touch that he so desperately needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think !! comments and other ways of letting me know what you thought keeps me going. 
> 
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/softyjseo) [cc](https://curiouscat.me/softyjseo)


	3. 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings from chapter 1 still apply. If you don't feel like you could handle explicit scenes depicting torture, please don't read this. Your mental state is more important to me. Take care of yourself first and foremost.
> 
> I feel like I need to say this again, especially with this chapter: I. DO. NOT. SUPPORT. THIS. I'm just someone interested in darker aspects of writing and shows such as Criminal Minds. 
> 
> enjoy
> 
> [The Music box](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xUHXHQe3BU&t=0s&index=2&list=LLvjg2kc-XmW34urQxsl9AmQ)

‘’You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey.’’ Yuta jolted awake at the creepy tune filling the room, yelping out in pain as his arms didn’t move but his torso did. He was tied to the bed again.

He looked around the room, searching for where the soft singing voice was coming from, and was greeted with Sicheng seated in a chair, playing with a music box that looked as if though it was hundreds of years old. The tune was supposed to be happy, as Yuta came to the realization which song it was exactly, but by the way Sicheng was singing along it made it creepy.

Yuta shivered as Sicheng’s eyes travelled from the music to look at him. He smiled but didn’t stop singing, the words sounding twisted and absolutely insane. Yuta let himself drop back onto the bed with as less pain as he could, awaiting what Sicheng was going to do to him.

After Yuta had fallen asleep next to Sicheng while clutching the Chinese boy –he had learned that Sicheng was Chinese, but Yuta couldn’t put an exact day to it. He didn’t even know how he had been here, in the first place—Sicheng had seen that as some sort of sign. He had tried to kiss Yuta on multiple occasions, but Yuta had rejected him every single time. He didn’t _want_ to kiss Sicheng, no matter how much his survival depended on it.

Something kept nagging at him, something that told Yuta Sicheng didn’t do this to just anyone. He had called Yuta ‘my love’ on multiple occasions and even though Yuta was sure he was forgetting the majority of what had happened, Sicheng had told him once that they were ‘finally together again’.

Yuta couldn’t be sure of his memories anymore, so he wasn’t certain whether or not Sicheng and him had ever met before, but he had forgotten almost everything else. He didn’t remember where he was from, what the flashing lights in his memory meant or who Taeyong was. He had absolutely no idea. It was all a big jumble of puzzle pieces, some that he needed to fit them together missing.

‘’And if you leave to love some other, you will regret it all someday.’’ Sicheng put the music box down, his eyes still trained on Yuta as far as the Japanese boy could see from the bed, and he walked up to him with the tiniest skip in his step. If it were any other circumstance, Yuta would have thought it was adorable.

Wait, what?

‘’How did you sleep, love?’’ Sicheng sat down on the bed, putting his hand on Yuta’s legs. Yuta let him, the burning in his back still not completely subsided. He had no idea how long ago that happened, but he didn’t want it to happen again. So, he played along.

‘’I—I slept uh, okay.’’ Yuta’s voice was scratchy and he was thirsty, but he didn’t have the guts to ask for water. He swallowed dryly. Sicheng smiled at that, seemingly content with Yuta’s response. The boy on the bed couldn’t help but fear something was going to happen, though, the pain in his back and the restraints on his wrist making it hard to believe Sicheng wasn’t going to do anything.

‘’H—how about,’’ Yuta coughed, his throat hurting, ‘’how about you?’’ He asked, wanting to play along with Sicheng for as long as he could. He may have had a moment of weakness by cuddling up to the Chinese boy in bed, but that was not something Yuta was planning on doing ever again. The comfort was nice, but the burns on his back spoke volumes.

‘’I didn’t sleep. I never do.’’ Clearly, Yuta’s question had struck a nerve. Sicheng’s voice turned from loving to somewhat tight, an edge to his words that Yuta hated. ‘’Why don’t you sleep?’’ Yuta really wanted to keep the conversation going, to keep it about Sicheng before the other could ask questions. The Japanese boy was terrified he would say something wrong.

Sicheng chuckled, pushing his hand palms into his eyes so hard even Yuta winced. ‘’They come and get me when I sleep.’’ Who are they? Who was Sicheng talking about?

‘’Who?’’

‘’They! Them! They hurt me!’’ Sicheng yelled, standing up. Yuta’s body was full of tension almost immediately, his body preparing itself for pain or anything else. Sicheng was unpredictable. Just the day before –honestly Yuta wasn’t sure if it even was the day before—Sicheng had spend the entire day seated at the tiny desk in the basement, pencil over paper. Yuta hadn’t been able to see what he was doing, but by the sounds of it he had guessed he was writing a letter of some sort.

‘’I’m sorry!’’ Yuta yelled in response, not wanting Sicheng to hurt him again. The Chinese boy seemed shocked by Yuta’s words, turning around to look at him trembling on the bed. Sicheng had the nerve to coo.

‘’You look so pretty like this.’’ Yuta shivered again, his chest constricting with the way the compliment made him feel. Sicheng moved toward him again, leaning in. His face was incredibly close to Yuta’s and Yuta knew exactly where this was going, so he turned his face.

Sicheng bristled. ‘’Can’t you see I love you?! Why are you being like this?!’’ He was screaming as he wandered around the room, Yuta’s scared eyes following him every step till he stopped at a closed cabinet. Sicheng kneeled down, opening the small wooden door and taking something out that wasn’t in Yuta’s line of sight. He got up again, kicked the cabinet closed with a loud ‘bang’ before rushing back to the bed.

It was a whip.

Sicheng was holding a whip.

‘’Please! Please don’t do this!’’ Yuta knew begging was practically useless, but he at least wanted Sicheng to know that this wasn’t okay. That any of this wasn’t okay.

‘’You—‘’ Sicheng roughly placed a hand down on Yuta’s chest to keep him from moving, making Yuta whine pathetically because fuck, that hurt, ‘’did this all to yourself, my love!’’ Sicheng was screaming and about to do something extremely painful with a whip, but he still had the audacity to call him ‘my love’. It had Yuta’s mind reeling.

‘’If you had just kissed me _back_ –stay still!—like normal couples do, we wouldn’t have been in this situation!’’ Sicheng’s voice was way too loud for how close he was standing and Yuta shook with fear, not being able to stop himself from trembling or slightly moving around even though Sicheng had asked him to.

‘’We aren’t a couple!’’

Yuta’s eyes widened at his own words. They were out before he could stop himself, a moment of pure bewilderment, and he regretted them the second he saw Sicheng tense up. It fell silent, the only sound the music box playing its last tunes before going quiet, too. It added to the horrible situation Yuta was in, adding onto the eeriness in his heart by just looking at Sicheng.

‘’We-‘’ Sicheng raised his hand, the whip raising with it, ‘’are-‘’ Yuta had no time to prepare for the sting that shot through his body, the horrible pain spreading all throughout his leg. He gasped out in pain, tears immediately pooling in his eyes. Sicheng stood there, a twisted smile on his face that didn’t quite mask the sadness in his features and Yuta felt guilty. He felt guilty while he was the one being hit with a whip against his will.

‘’a couple!’’ Sicheng finished the sentence with another fierce whip against Yuta’s legs, making the boy jump up as far as he could in pain. He curled his toes to keep from screaming, not wanting to give Sicheng the satisfaction that this was probably giving him.

But, as Yuta looked up, Sicheng was crying. Tears were slowly making their way down his cheeks, and Yuta was so, so incredibly confused.

‘’Say you love me.’’ Sicheng’s voice was such a contrast, the complete opposite, of the way he was trying to hold back more tears. He raised the whip again. Yuta shook his head, not wanting to say those words.

‘’Say you love me!’’ Sicheng yelled it this time, bringing the whip down on Yuta’s sensitive thighs. Yuta cried out in pain this time, the sound echoing through the basement but not reaching further than that. He sobbed, biting his lip to give his body something else to focus on other than the sting in his legs. This fucking hurt.

‘’No!’’ Yuta yelled back, earning him another slap on the legs. He was trembling more now, his body shaking with the pain and the sobs he was letting escape. He couldn’t do this for much longer.

‘’Say you love me!’’ Sicheng smacked him again, this time way harder than the others, and Yuta cried out again, louder than the last one, and he felt the will to protest give in. If telling Sicheng that he loved him would make a stop to all of this, Yuta would say it.

‘’I love you.’’ Yuta whispered, closing his eyes. What he wasn’t prepared for was a ‘louder!’ being screamed into his ear and the whip hitting his torso. He yelped out in both surprise and pain, gritting his teeth to keep himself from saying something he shouldn’t. He would only get it worse if he did that.

‘’I love you!’’ He yelled, nausea creeping up on him from the pain and the disgust of having to say those words to someone like Sicheng. Or, so Yuta thought. As he opened his eyes again, he was met with Sicheng seated on the floor, crying into his arms as he leant against the bedframe. Sobs were wrecking his body and Yuta felt guilt creep into his system again.

Was it guilt? Or was it something else? Empathy? Sympathy? Anger? Yuta truly didn’t know as he slowly raised his hand to intertwine his fingers with Sicheng’s uncared-for hair. It was a mess, more so than usual, and Yuta bit his lip to stop himself from saying something about it.

His body was in pain still, the stings from the whips Sicheng had given him still burning his legs and torso and Yuta could see blood seeping from the wounds. He groaned out in pain, hoping Sicheng wouldn’t move, but he did. He didn’t move toward Yuta, he moved away. He walked up the stairs and Yuta was very close to calling after him, until he didn’t hear the door close. This meant Sicheng was returning.

He was, in fact, returning. About three minutes had passed, or so Yuta guessed, and Sicheng came down the stairs again with what looked like a first aid kit. Yuta stayed still, watching as Sicheng opened it up and retrieved some alcohol and gauze.

This was odd. This was extremely odd. Yuta remembered waking up with his back burns being treated by ice cubes. Sicheng showed mercy by not hitting him with a baseball bat. And now he was patching him up?

This was odd.

Yuta let Sicheng get to work. He winced every now and then, the alcohol burning and stinging in the wounds, but he let it happen. It was better than the wounds getting infected. Sicheng did it with the utmost care, leaving no wound untreated or a drop of blood on his skin.

Sicheng was quietly mumbling to himself, a different rhythm, a different song than before, and Yuta felt his eyes going droopy. He was exhausted, every ounce of energy having gone into fighting against Sicheng and the pain, and he so badly wanted to sleep.

‘ _’I didn’t sleep. I never do._ ’’ Yuta wondered who the people Sicheng was afraid of were, and why they kept him awake. As he looked at Sicheng standing up and really focused on him, he could see bags under his eyes. He had put on a pair of glasses and Yuta somehow heard the word ‘cute’ echo through his mind.

He pushed the thought away, though, because that wasn’t what he wanted to think.

Soon enough, the pain became too much and Yuta was slipping away. He tiredly watched Sicheng sit down again, grabbing hold of the music box and turning it all the way. The soft tune filled the room again, Sicheng’s voice carrying it to Yuta’s ears and before he knew it the boy was asleep.

‘’ _You are my sunshine,_

_My only sunshine,_

_You make me happy,_

_When skies are grey._

_You don’t know dear,_

_How much I love you._

_Please don’t take,_

_My sunshine away._

_I’ll always love you,_

_And make you happy,_

_If you will only_

_Say the same,_

_But if you leave me,_

_To love another,_

_You’ll regret,_

_It all,_

_Someday.’’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post spoilers and other things about this story on Twitter with the hashtag SS. If you want to know more, be sure to check those tweets out!
> 
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/softyjseo) [cc](https://curiouscat.me/softyjseo)


	4. 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings as the first author's note apply. 
> 
> I've been gone for a month and I am so, so sorry. I had to figure some shit out and I barely had any time to write. I hope you enjoy, however.

It was all a blur.

Taeyong was standing next to Yuta, his smile bright and their hands intertwined as he looked at the Ferris wheel. Yuta looked around, his body not moving except the way his head turned to each side. Everyone and everything else was a blur except from him and Taeyong, the red head almost too bright in the sea of ghost like creatures surrounding them.

‘’Oh my god! Is that Nakamoto Yuta?’’

 

Yuta gasped, shooting up in bed with his eyes wide. His breathing was heavy, his lungs screaming for oxygen as Yuta tried to provide it. Memories flashed through his brain like a bolt of thunder crashing into the ground and it was hard to breath.

Camera’s flashing. People yelling his name. Taeyong clutching onto his hand.

Yuta moved and was surprised to notice that he could. Despite the burning in his back and the stings of pain shooting up his legs and abdomen, he stood up. His movements were wobbly as he made his way to the stairs.

His breathing was completely out of pattern, ragged and by the time he reached the top of the stairs, Yuta felt as if though he was close to passing out again.

His hand lifted to open the door, heavy on the doorknob. Yuta had no idea what he was doing, but he knew he needed fresh air. And he needed it now. He didn’t even wait to see if he could hear anything, Sicheng nothing but a thought in the back of his very wary and hazy mind.

The door swung open, a loud bang against the wall and Yuta was gone. He rushed down the long hall, never having been in this part of the house conscious. The hallway spread out into what seemed to be the living room. Yuta didn’t have time to scan it, register where everything stood, as he tried to find a way _out_.

His eyesight had gone blurry, Yuta cursing as his knee collided with something hard. Natural light streamed in from a big window next to a sliding door and Yuta almost cheered in victory, his hands finding the door knob faster than ever before.

Whatever hope the Japanese boy had in his body dissipated as he pulled, the door not budging even in the slightest except for a ‘clunk’, signalizing that the lock was still firmly in place and Yuta would never be able to open that door.

Yuta felt like crying as he could basically hear Sicheng laugh at him.

Instead of the Chinese boy rushing up to him from wherever he was hiding, Yuta was greeted with silence, the only noise the ticking of the clock against the wall. As Yuta focused on the clock, his breathing slowed down to a somewhat regular pattern, his eyes closing as he slid down to the floor, on his knees.

Was he famous before all of this? Did the flashing lights mean people were taking pictures of him? Were the people yelling his name in his mind memories or just his imagination? Was the memory of drinking something awfully sweet and bright yellow really a memory or was it just something Yuta had come up with?

Yuta was angry at himself for not remembering. He punched the floor, screaming out in agony as he felt his knuckles hit the hard wooden floor. The pain in his back returned for the slightest of seconds, a sting in his leg reminding Yuta of the leather of the whip against his flesh.

 

Yuta had no idea for how long he had sat there, curled up on the floor in front of the sliding door, but when he heard the front door open his first instinct wasn’t to rush to it and run out. His first instinct was to jump up and find a way into the basement. As he rushed into the hallway where he had previously come from, Yuta was greeted with a crying Sicheng.

Now that was unexpected.

Sicheng was shaking, his eyes finding Yuta’s before he reached out, kicking the door close with his left foot as he reached out for Yuta with his right arm. Yuta stayed put for a split second, but the weird and unexplainable need to take care of Sicheng took over and he rushed to embrace the crying male as fast as he could manage.

Sicheng’s tight hold hurt on Yuta’s back, his arms digging into the sensitive wounds of the burns that he had left, but Yuta didn’t care. Sicheng’s breath was slowing down and that was all that mattered.

Wait. Was it?

Sicheng was the first to pull away. His movements were slow, his face stopping right in front of Yuta’s. Their noses were touching and Yuta clenched his eyes shut, knowing exactly where this was going. The memory of rejecting a kiss from Sicheng filled his brain, the sting of the whip against his skin making Yuta feel like he was drowning.

If he just kissed Sicheng, he would be okay. Kissing wasn’t such a big deal.

Yuta felt Sicheng lean in and before he knew it he had a pair of rough lips on his. They were chapped and dry and didn’t move an inch. Sicheng just rested their lips together, clearly at loss of what to do, and for that Yuta was grateful.

He waited till Sicheng pulled away, clenching his jaw together to try and conceal his disgust. Yuta swallowed, his mind reeling at what just happened. Sicheng was smiling at him, placing one hand against Yuta’s cheek.

‘’You finally listened, my love. I knew you would.’’ Yuta shivered, the feeling of Sicheng’s calloused hand caressing his cheek almost getting too much.

His mind and body had phases. One minute they wanted to be close to Sicheng, comfort him with whatever was wrong, while the other minute they wanted to scream and yell and beg for Sicheng to let him go.

It was exhausting, to say the least.

‘’What—What’s wrong?’’ His voice was scruffy, his lack of water in his system showing itself to Sicheng. The Chinese boy swallowed and shook his head. ‘’I visited them today.’’ Yuta frowned.

‘’ _I didn’t sleep. I never do_.’’

‘’ _They come and get me when I sleep._ ’’

The words rang through Yuta’s brain and he felt a feeling of uneasiness settle into his bones, weighing him down. ‘’Who’s—who’s them?’’ Sicheng seemed to defrost from his frozen position in front of the closed front door, because he unlatched himself from Yuta and walked into the living room.

Yuta winced, expecting Sicheng to get angry at him, but he wasn’t. In fact, as Yuta stood there completely frozen and wondering who ‘they’ were, he heard pans banging together in what he assumed to be the kitchen.

‘’Are you hungry, babe?’’ Yuta was so, so confused. He had expected for the boy to force him back into the basement and tie him back to the bed. As Yuta rubbed the red skin along his wrists and walked into the living room as well, he realized that was not going to happen.

Was it the kiss? Was it the fact that Yuta didn’t try to make a run for it while the front door was open? Whatever it was, Yuta was grateful he allowed himself to do it. The freedom of walking around was something he had greatly missed.

‘’I—yeah? I think so?’’ Sicheng giggled, eyeing Yuta as he walked into the kitchen. It was a strangely domestic scene and Yuta swore he had experienced it with someone else multiple times. ‘’You think so? I’m _pretty_ sure you know, my love.’’ Yuta watched as Sicheng moved around the kitchen, not sparing the Japanese boy more than a few glances.

Yuta felt somewhat relaxed. Which was odd. He had no idea why he was with Sicheng, what had happened to get him where he is, he barely knew anything about Sicheng other than the fact that he was clearly in love with Yuta and Yuta was terrified. Other than that, there wasn’t much else to go by.

Yuta was confused at his own relaxed state.

‘’Do you want to, uh, eat dinner in the backyard? It’s fairly hot out.’’ Yuta turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes trained on the sliding door he had tried to escape through only roughly an hour before. Sicheng was scratching his neck nervously and it endeared Yuta.

‘’Yeah—yes of course.’’ Yuta tried to smile at Sicheng and clearly it was working, because the Chinese boy returned it even bigger and brighter, walking over to Yuta and placing a peck on his cheek so quickly Yuta had no time to dodge or retreat.

Triumphantly, Sicheng winked at him before turning back to the stove.

‘’You, uhm, can explore the house—if you want, since you live here now.’’ A silence fell, the only noise coming from the stew like food Sicheng was preparing. Yuta could feel his heart beat in his temples, the way it raced almost unhealthy.

Did this mean Yuta was out of the basement for good? Did he pass some sort of test?

‘ _live here now_ ’ what did that even mean? Yuta wasn’t supposed to live here. He came from somewhere else, he knew that. All he had to do was find out where he was from, why Sicheng took him –or whatever else happened—and who Taeyong was.

Yuta nodded slowly, turning on his heel to pat around the living room. It looked old, furniture worn and when Yuta focused hard enough he could see weird dried up red stains on the hardwood floor. He shivered, walking past it as fast as he could manage.

The Japanese boy was limping slightly, his legs still weak from the lack of movement. Yuta could feel his knees protesting with every step he took, but he fought through. He was walking, for Christ sake. That’s all that mattered.

Yuta made his way through the living room, scanning pictures that looked like family portraits and gatherings hanging all across the room. He didn’t see a younger version of Sicheng anywhere. Yuta shivered as he got to the last picture, hanging right next to the door leading to the hallway. An older woman, maybe around her fifties, was standing there with an older man, slightly above fifty. They were smiling, but the child in their midst wasn’t.

Yuta recognised it to be a teenage version of Sicheng. This was the only picture where Yuta had been able to see Sicheng. The others were of the same woman and man with other children, but only this one was with Sicheng.

Yuta wondered why as he focused on the picture, scanning it thoroughly.

His eyes widened, his body going rigid as his eyes zeroed in on a small music box standing on a wooden table in the background. The figurine that was on it was blurred, so Yuta guessed it had been moving while the picture was taken.

Yuta closed his eyes, trying to pull back the memory of Sicheng sitting in the basement with said music box. There hadn’t been a figurine on it when the Chinese boy was singing along with it.

Where had it gone?

Yuta shook his head, willing the image of a broken music box away. He carried on walking, trudging into the hallway. The door to the basement was opened, but Yuta really didn’t feel like walking in there. Instead, he opened another door and was met with the bathroom. Not really interested in that, Yuta decided to walk up the stairs.

When was the last time he had peed?

He shook it off, carrying on walking up the stairs. The small hallway was neat, no pictures on the wall in stark contrast to how the living room looked. Except for the two doors leading to bedrooms—Yuta guessed—there was nothing else. The walls were a pristine white, another difference compared to the lamented living area and kitchen.

Yuta didn’t really like it up here.

The bedroom he recognized. It was the same one he had woken up in after Sicheng had burned his back so bad Yuta passed out. The bed was made, flowers on the nightstand perfectly blooming and some of the sun light brightened the room up. There was no sign of any garbage anywhere.

There was barely a sign of _living_ anywhere.

Yuta closed the door behind him, stepping back into the hallway. If he was going to live here, he’d have to ask Sicheng permission to redecorate.

Wait, what?

Yuta froze for a second at his own thoughts, shaking his head before moving on. He walked across the hall, his hand on the handle towards the other room before he heard a loud thud behind him.

‘’Don’t—don’t go in there.’’ Sicheng sounded embarrassed of something, and as Yuta looked back over his shoulder he could see the other male was blushing. Yuta had to bite his lip to prevent himself from smiling.

What was he doing?

‘’Why? What’s in there?’’ Yuta felt a sudden urge of confidence. He wasn’t afraid to ask even though Sicheng looked extremely uncomfortable.

‘’Just—pictures? And uh, lots and lots of stuff.’’ Sicheng’s body language spoke volumes. He was slightly hunched over, his cheeks red and his hand scratching the back of his neck while one of his feet dug into the carpet.

‘’Why can’t I see?’’ Yuta was immensely curious now, his hand tightening around the knob as he waited for Sicheng to say something. He was on thin eyes, Yuta guessed, but he needed to know what was behind this door.

Sicheng shook his head, ‘’You—you can’t—can’t see it. Trust me. One day you will. Not now.’’ Yuta relented, dropping his hands to his sides. As Sicheng pulled him down the stairs he casted one more glance at the still closed door and sighed.

_One day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed ! thank you so much for 1k hits ! it means a lot. Please leave your thoughts in the comments or on my twitter ! it's linked below :)


	5. 5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for sexual child abuse.

Yuta doesn’t know how it happened, but somehow it does. Sicheng’s touches are no longer terrifying. They no longer leave the boy shaking in anxiety nor fear. Instead, he starts to long for them, guiltily so.

It feltlike months that he’d been with Sicheng, his memories of everything with the Chinese boy blurring together. As the days started to bleed together more and more, so did Yuta’s memories. It was a foggy jumble of scenes Yuta wasn’t sure he ever even experienced, sometimes cleared up for a split second before the fog would return and everything would be blurry again. Yuta had no idea how long he had lived with Sicheng, but according to his mind it had been long enough for him to forget why he was even there.

Yuta had started to forget how he had gotten here, the scars on his body leaving questions he wanted to ask but never actually did.

He remembered vague burning, screaming and the noise of leather hitting flesh. Sometimes, the soft noises of a music box gave sound to the memories, drowning Yuta in more confusion. Yuta wasn’t sure what it meant anymore.

There were stray slivers of memory that would creep into Yuta’s brain as he tried to fall asleep with Sicheng cuddled against his chest. Some nights, the Japanese boy didn’t sleep. He’d spent the night looking at Sicheng whom, ever since they start sleeping in the same bed, had started to sleep more and more, little by little.

The nightmares followed, however. Sicheng waking up, shooting up in bed screaming at the top of his lungs and crying his eyes out. Yuta was usually left consoling the boy despite his own sorrow and pain. It felt natural to do so, and the nights Sicheng didn’t sleep and quietly sang along to the soft melody of a song that brought Yuta back to the feeling of cold air hitting his arms and something restricting him to the bed.

He never asked Sicheng to stop despite the feeling of being pressed down against the bed as it seemed to comfort the boy. And for some odd reason, that was enough for Yuta. On those nights he’d usually fall asleep listening to Sicheng’s soft voice, a hand on his ankle that grounded Yuta, knowing that Sicheng was sitting at the end of the bed, there with him.

Yuta preferred those nights over the nights where he’d have to hug Sicheng close to his chest as the Chinese boy screamed and sobbed, kicking his legs and scratching his arms. Yuta felt so incredibly bad for him.

‘’Sichengie?’’ Yuta walked into the living room, eyes lidded and movements sluggish as he tried to find Sicheng in the darkness of the room. He had woken up to an empty side of the bed. At first, he tried not to worry, his sleepiness taking over till his body realized the lack of body heat pressed against him was enough to get Yuta out of bed and searching for Sicheng.

The tunes of a music box Yuta had memorized by now filled the room and Yuta’s ears as he walked in, spotting Sicheng standing in the middle of the living room. The Chinese man perked up, his eyes finding Yutas with a smile. Despite the grin on the boy’s face, Yuta noticed how glassy his eyes were and where exactly Sicheng was standing. He was stood next to the questionable bloodstain on the floor.

‘’Yuta—baby—sorry. I had a nightmare again.’’ Yuta nodded, taking a few steps to stand next to Sicheng. ‘’I figured, it’s okay.’’ His voice was soft, below a whisper. Yuta was trying his best to comfort him. On nights where Sicheng got out of bed after a nightmare he was always ridiculously calm, compared to his other episodes. Instead of wanting to be touched, he preferred to stay away from physical contact as much as possible.

Therefore, Yuta kept his distance as much as possible, no matter how hard he wanted to cuddle the boy and clutch him to his chest.

Sometimes, it still felt odd to hold Sicheng. Like something was wrong, like Yuta was horrible for doing so. He knew Sicheng had done things to him—the scars weren’t there for nothing—but as of now, to Yuta’s mind, none of that truly mattered. Sicheng told Yuta he loved him, kissed him and held him every day.

It was enough reason for Yuta to ignore the weird tug at his heart, the anxiety that sometimes spread through his chest, that occurred when Sicheng looked at him every now and again.

‘’I want to visit them, Yuta.’’ Yuta’s eyes shot up from where he was eyeing Sicheng’s feet on the floor, one of them _on_ the questionable stain. Yuta had been here for a while, and had heard Sicheng talk about _them_ only once. He sometimes caught Sicheng writing letters to someone but never noticed him leave the house to actually mail them. Instead, Yuta usually watched Sicheng throw the written letters into the fireplace in the backyard.

‘’Who?’’ Yuta asked, watching as Sicheng walked to the couch and sat down. He petted the spot next to him and without a thought Yuta followed, taking a seat next to him. ‘’I’ll show you tomorrow.’’ Yuta was thoroughly confused, but he nodded.

‘’Does that mean we’re going outside?’’ Yuta was hopeful. He couldn’t remember the last time he set foot outside, except for the backyard. Sometimes, Sicheng allowed Yuta to sit in the backyard, basking in the subtle sunlight. Yuta wasn’t sure which season it was and never asked. He was sure he wouldn’t get an answer anywhere.

There wasn’t _anything_ in the house that could’ve told Yuta what day it was, so he was left clueless, listening to Sicheng as the boy told him what to wear and how to dress for the weather. Yuta guessed it was slowly becoming spring, but he couldn’t be too sure.

Sicheng smiled and nodded. ‘’You’ve been so good for so long and I want you to meet them.’’ Yuta beamed at the praise, his hand finding Sicheng’s without a second thought. He was somewhat excited to go outside again, to visit whoever Sicheng wanted him to meet.

Sicheng stood up, tugging Yuta with him and the Japanese boy followed him up the stairs and into the bedroom. ‘’But first, you need more sleep.’’ Sicheng pushed Yuta to the bed, the boy obediently falling into the blankets with a soft smile. This felt weirdly good.

A frown etched itself into Yuta’s forehead, however, when he watched Sicheng sit down in the chair at the end of the bed. ‘’You’re not sleeping?’’

Sicheng shook his head, his mouth uttering words that had Yuta’s hair on edge.

‘’We’re already seeing them tomorrow, I don’t want to see them in my dreams too.’’

 

The outside world felt different. It was odd and it felt unsafe. Yuta realized he much preferred their home—was it their home?—and it’s walls instead of the endlessness of the outside world. With every glance of a strange face, every movement around him, Yuta felt himself scoot closer and closer to Sicheng. So far, he hated being outside again.

It was getting warmer and warmer, but Sicheng had ordered Yuta to wear a mask, a hoodie and sunglasses. Despite the fact that Yuta was very confused and looking for the reason, he didn’t ask. He let Sicheng tighten his hoodie strings and followed him a couple streets over, toward what seemed to be a graveyard.

‘’We’re almost there.’’ They were walking through what seemed to be a village. The houses were far apart and the streets barely pavemented in some areas and Yuta was extremely overwhelmed and incredibly confused. Sicheng, however, seemed to know exactly where he was going. Yuta was left clutching at the Chinese boy’s sleeve, afraid to lose him.

‘’Is this it?’’ Sicheng pushed the gate toward a small cemetery open, making Yuta walk in first before he followed and closed the gate. Yuta had wondered why Sicheng had plucked flowers from the backyard before they left, but now he kind of understood.

‘’Sichengie? Who are we visiting?’’ Sicheng strode in front of Yuta, making his way toward two gravestones standing tall and proud in a more vacant part of the cemetery.

The Chinese boy pointed at the stones, a childish like smile on his face that gave Yuta the shivers and butterflies simultaneously. But, Yuta shrugged it off in order to focus on what was on the stones.

He gasped when they got closer. The names of the people who were buried there weren’t on the stone, neither were the dates they had presumably died. All that was carved into the stones were ‘ _here lay my parents. Make sure to visit._ ’

Yuta halted his steps, watching as Sicheng put the bouquet of orange butterfly weed and Chrysanthemum’s in between the tombstones. Sicheng stood back up straight, turning to look at Yuta with a grin on his face. There was no one at the graveyard except for them, the gravestones standing in sad, almost dead grass.

Yuta felt out of place.

‘’Who lay here?’’ Yuta asked, his voice as cautious as ever. Sicheng eyed him for a few seconds before turning back to the graves. The plastic wrapped around the flowers rustling in the wind as Sicheng beckoned him over.

Yuta listened, moving to stand next to the man. ‘’My parents.’’ Yuta felt the air leave his lungs, like someone had punched him right between the ribs and had not looked back. He seemed to be more affected by it than Sicheng, however, as the boy was just standing there.

Yuta coughed, his lungs filling themselves with oxygen again when Sicheng chuckled. Was this a joke?

‘’They died when people invaded our house. I was left alone.’’ Yuta’s eyes widened, his legs almost giving out. This was too much. This couldn’t be real. Sicheng had to be kidding.

‘’You—fuck—you survived _that_?’’

Sicheng shrugged, lacking way too much grief. ‘’I was allowed to live.’’ Who allowed Sicheng to live? Was he talking gibberish? Yuta felt his head going dizzy, everything too much at once. Being outside, wanting nothing more than to be inside and the intense and overwhelming _worry_ he felt for Sicheng was getting too much too fast.

‘’Who allowed you?’’ Yuta couldn’t help but ask, ‘’Were they ever caught?’’

Sicheng shrugged, shaking his head casually. Like this weren’t his parents he was talking about.

‘’They ran before the police could. They’re probably very smart.’’ Yuta couldn’t help but, despite his dizziness and the general slowness of his brain, see childish manners in Sicheng as he stood opposite of the graves, bouncing one of his feet against the ground and reading the sentence on both of the stones over and over again.

Shouldn’t he be more sad?

Yuta’s thoughts left his brain as he watched Sicheng crouch down, taking a seat on the gravel in front of the graves. What was he doing?

‘’Sit down next to me, babe.’’ Yuta hesitated for a second before following suit, sitting down next to Sicheng with an odd feeling in his stomach. Everything felt strange.

‘’My parents were _mean_ people, yuyu. They gave me away to them,’’ Sicheng gestured to the graves with open hands, his face unreadable to Yuta. Yuta shivered. ‘’and they were even worse. They ruined my favourite lullaby.’’ Yuta thought of the two music boxes he had heard Sicheng sing along to and wondered which of the two it was.

He scooted closer to the Chinese man, resting his head on his shoulder. ‘’What happened?’’ Yuta asked, despite his prior judgement to try and not upset the other. Sicheng tensed for a few seconds before relaxing, wrapping an arm around Yuta’s waist and squeezing just a little bit too hard.

Yuta could practically feel a bruise forming, but he didn’t say anything.

‘’Father would come into my room at night. He’d spin the handle, making sure the music would continue on playing till he was finished. He’d make me look at the stars my mother painted on the ceiling when he touched me. I looked at the stars and prayed to be up there, in space, but when the music stopped I always returned.’’ Sicheng was biting his lip, gritting through his teeth and Yuta felt his heart break, the pieces shattering to the floor like carefully cut glass.

Sicheng sighed, taking in a shaky breath before letting go of Yuta and standing up. ‘’We should head home.’’ Despite the fact that Yuta was even more curious than he had ever been, he nodded and stood up, too. He craved the security of the walls around him and he was getting hot.

As they exited the graveyard, Yuta raised his hands to fiddle with his mask. ‘’Don’t!’’ Sicheng was on him in an instant, pulling his hands away so harshly it made Yuta yelp out loud. ‘’Why not?’’ Yuta whined, pulling his hands away to reach up again. Sicheng glared at him, grabbing Yuta’s wrists in a tight grip.

‘’Because,’’ He snapped, tugging at Yuta’s arm to get him moving. Yuta stumbled, utterly confused. ‘’I said so.’’ The Chinese boy almost growled, leaving Yuta to whimper. A sudden déjà vu feeling fell over him, and the sudden urge to cry flooded his system.

‘’People might recognize you. They can’t take you from me again.’’ Sicheng’s words were muttered softly and while they were almost running down the street, Yuta was able to pick up on them. Recognize him? from what? Take him from Sicheng? Why would people do that?

‘’Why would they take me from you? I’m yours, right? There’s no reason for someone to take you from me?’’ Sicheng didn’t answer, moving swiftly till they arrived at the house. He swung the door open, pushing Yuta inside before entering himself.

Sicheng slumped against the door, hands in his hair and tears in his eyes. Yuta felt bad for asking.

The boy seemed to carefully think his words through. Yuta didn’t move, not wanting to risk anything, so he stood and watched Sicheng clench and unclench his wrists in his unevenly cut hair.

‘’No one, baby.’’ Yuta eyed Sicheng, questions flying through his head like birds swarming around a dead cadaver. He couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety nor confusion as he looked at Sicheng. This wasn’t an answer, but the Chinese boy seemed too angry for Yuta to pry further.

Yuta watched and felt Sicheng walk past him, heard the creaks of the stairway and a door open and closing.

The Japanese boy eyed the closed door of the living room, turned back around to the front door and realized that if he wanted to leave, he could.

Instead, he shrugged off the hoodie, ripped off the mask and turned to walk into the living room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Butterfly weed and Chrysanthemum's, a combination of yellow and orange. A combination of grieve and longing. Grieving over loved ones, longing for them to leave you alone. 
> 
>  
> 
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/softyjseo)  
>    
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.me/softyjseo)  
> 


	6. 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> explicit scene of yuta completely losing it ahead. emotional manipulation resulting in the melting together of memories and a complete freak out. 
> 
>  
> 
> if you feel uncomfortable reading it in any way, please don't read ahead.   
> once again, I do not condone any of the actions Sicheng takes in this story. it's fiction. thank you.   
> enjoy at your own risk.

A couple weeks –Yuta wasn’t entirely sure, but it felt like weeks—after the visit to the graveyard, Sicheng decided it was time to go outside again. It wasn’t nearly as emotional or scary as the first time, Sicheng just holding Yuta’s hand as they made their way to the supermarket a couple streets over, but Yuta felt uneasy all the same.

Just like last time, he realized he didn’t want to be outside. When they reached the supermarket and were finally done after thirty minutes of doing groceries, Yuta was glad to be on their way home again.

Sicheng had allowed him to only wear a hoodie with the hood up and a mask this time, no sunglasses needed. It felt less constricted, but the Japanese boy still didn’t like the fact that he had to wear such accessories only to go outside with his boyfriend.

The term had slipped during a conversation the duo had been having about what to have for dinner that night a couple days ago. At the prospect of Yuta calling him his boyfriend, Sicheng seemed to be ecstatic. And so, Yuta had decided to use it.

Yuta held onto Sicheng’s hand tightly, following the taller male back to the house as quickly as possible. The Chinese male didn’t seem to be in that much of a rush to get Yuta back in the house, but the Japanese boy hated it and rushed Sicheng to walk faster.

After finally arriving home and cleaning out the groceries, the duo cuddled up on the couch to watch a couple episodes of a Japanese drama they had been watching for the past few days.

Yuta calmed down from the slight panic he had felt while outside, Sicheng’s hand in his hair enough to make him feel relaxed and not as on edge anymore. They left the drama for what it was when it got darker, Sicheng cooking them some noodles before they found their way into bed, cuddled with Sicheng’s head onto Yuta’s chest. Soon enough, Sicheng’s soft snores filled the room.

With the knowledge that the Chinese boy had managed to fall asleep, Yuta wasn’t far behind. Closing his eyes and his breath evening out, Yuta was gone in a heartbeat.

 

‘’Babe! You left the tv on!’’ Yuta walked into the living room, rubbing his hair dry with a towel and his other hand reaching out to grab the remote. He halted, however, as he saw red flashing images and two people seated at a desk.

Sicheng never let Yuta watch actual television. According to the boy, they didn’t have cable. Only a drama streaming service Yuta had forgotten the name of. But, as Yuta kept his eyes trained on the television, he realized that this, was in fact, cable.

He had no idea what the two people were saying and what the show was even about. He could see Sicheng through the closed glass door working on some gardening in the backyard, clearly not having heard Yuta yell for him.

Yuta’s eyes widened, his towel dropping to the floor and his hand flying to his mouth as a picture of him appeared on the screen, the words ‘breaking news’ in English flashing across the screen. In between the rushed lady her sentences, Yuta heard his name over and over again, the picture displaying him holding Sicheng’s hand in the grocery store down the street, Sicheng’s face completely out of view.

Why was he on the news? Why was he _breaking_ news, for that matter? What was going _on_?

‘’Yu—‘’ Sicheng’s mouth closed as he walked into the house, clothes covered in dirt and a piece of cloth to clean his hands rubbing at his skin. His eyes widened, as he understood exactly what was being said.

 _‘’Korean supermodel Nakamoto Yuta, who was born and raised in Japan, has been missing for over four months. As it seemed, the Korean police presumed him dead after a two month investigation led to nothing but more questions. He disappeared from a night out with his co-worker, Kim Jungwoo, in the small Chinese town of_ _Xiweicun and was never seen again, until yesterday. Some habitants of the town witnessed Nakamoto walking around a grocery store with an unknown person. Some of the villagers we talked to had never seen him before._ ’’

Yuta looked confused, a flash of hurt across his face as he looked at Sicheng. ‘’Why am I on the screen, Sichengie?’’ Said Chinese boy’s mouth was open in a silent plea for Yuta to stop asking questions, when the man of the broadcasting duo continued.

‘’ _A Korean police unit is on their way as we speak, accompanied by Yuta’s significant other, Lee Taeyong, who has not dropped the case ever since Nakamoto went missing. We’ll keep you updated._ ’’ Yuta’s eyes widened, recognizing the name among foreign syllables he didn’t understand.

Lee Taeyong. The sun going down. Bright red hair. Flashing lights. Soft music. The feeling of a hand on his cheek, warmth in his stomach.

Yuta watched Sicheng rush for the remote, turning off the screen with a loud huff. ‘’What did that mean, Sichengie? Why am I on the screen? What’s happening?’’ there’s anger bubbling in his chest as his mind provides him with a memory of loud music, sweet liquid on his tongue and a hazy mind.

Yuta gasped, screaming, ‘’What’s happening, Sichengie?! _Fucking_ say something?’’ Yuta was so, so confused and Sicheng was not helping, just standing there with his hands in his still uneven hair, tears finding their way down his cheeks and despite the fact that Yuta was beside himself with anger, he still reached out to wipe a tear away.

‘’Did you—how did we meet, Sichengie?’’ Sicheng seemed to snap, his eyes turning to look at Yuta with something that Yuta barely recognized, a wave of fear hitting him as he was reminded of the burns on his back, the ache in his legs and the forever scars across his limbs. This was not good.

‘’Shut up.’’ Sicheng snarled, taking a step closer to Yuta. ‘’You belong here. That’s all that’s important, Yuta.’’ Yuta felt his throat close up with fear, eyes fleeing to the hallway door. He knew the front door was locked and his heart honestly didn’t want to make a run for it, but as Sicheng edged closer and closer, Yuta made a run for it, up the stairs.

Sicheng was behind him in a split second. Yuta didn’t have a choice, screaming at the top of his lungs as he rushed up the stairs, entering the first room he could find with a loud bang.

The Chinese boy chasing him yelped loudly at this, but Yuta was too distracted by the hundreds of pictures of him scattering the walls, the boy Yuta recognized to be Taeyong joined him in a couple pictures, a big red cross covering his face in every single one of them.

There were pictures of Yuta on the streets, an apartment Yuta didn’t recognize, pictures of him in front of a backdrop, magazine cut outs and many, many more. Yuta’s brain went into overdrive, memories coming back to him like a thousand wasps attacking his brain at once.

Before he could turn around and ask Sicheng, hold the man in his arms because all he needed was comfort right now, he heard a loud, guttering scream before an agonizing pain to the back of his head, making Yuta drop to the floor and black out in a split second. He couldn’t see Sicheng’s face and the last thing he saw before closing his eyes was a picture of him and this Taeyong person holding hands, but all he wanted to think about was how Sicheng and him had sat in the graveyard for hours, holding hands and saying absolutely nothing. It had been peaceful.

So much different than this.

 

Yuta opened his eyes slowly, expecting the warmth that usually radiates off of Sicheng to be by his side, but he’s greeted with a cold mattress as he spreads his arms wide. Immediately, Yuta sits up, eyes wide as he scans the area.

He’s in the basement again.

As Yuta whips his head around, he’s greeted by a cabinet with food he recognizes vaguely. He sucks in a breath as he spots a red can of something, immediately brought back to the first time he had woken up in this basement.

Yuta wanted to cry. He had no idea which memories were real and which were fabricated. His mind was a mess of reoccurring scenes, melting together and leaving the Japanese boy crying on his bed, clutching his head in between his knees with loud sobs leaving his lips.

What was real? Why was he here? How did he get here? Where was Sicheng?

Yuta whimpered. He needed Sicheng. He needed a comforting hand on his back, a soft kiss to his ear and for the Chinese male his low voice to talk him to sleep. He needed Sicheng to put the pieces back together, for him to clear up his memories. For him to explain the hundreds of pictures of Yuta in that tiny room, to explain the news. He had no idea what was going on and Yuta hated it, so much.

He despised the memories of him and Taeyong, willing them away and desperately trying to replace them with memories of Sicheng cooking dinner for him, the time they slow danced in the living room, the time Sicheng showed him the letters he kept writing to his adoption parents. The time Sicheng had smiled so brightly as Yuta called him his boyfriend for the first time, seated on the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee in his hands.

He didn’t want to think about strangers, about memories he wasn’t sure whether happened at all. He just wanted to think about Sicheng’s comforting touches, his beautiful smile, his adorable elf ear and his gorgeous, gorgeous voice. The Japanese boy tried to fill his head with nothing but Sicheng, willing the pain in his back away with a groan and a whimper, hitting his head repeatedly to try and punch the memories—scenes? Made up stories?—out of his head.

The bed shook with how Yuta was rocking back and forth, hitting himself on the head every time Taeyong entered his mind, the male’s feline eyes and bright red hair following him everywhere, to every corner Yuta fled in his mind to find a memory of Sicheng to replace the boy with.

Yuta whimpered, shaking vigorously as a particular memory came to mind. He wasn’t sure whether it was real, Taeyong standing over him with a bucket of boiling water, a sick smile on his face and tears running down his cheeks at the same time, while Yuta laid on the cold hard floor, unable to move because the other was standing on his ankles, but it felt ridiculously real and Yuta yelped out.

He dashed off of the bed, trying to physically run from the memory that Yuta determined was real. He reached his hand into his shirt, feeling the sensitive skin across his back where he could reach, scars that had already healed breaking his skin apart completely.

Yuta kept touching, tugging his shirt off as fast as he could to try and reach more of the expanse of his back, tears running down his cheeks and whimpered cries leaving his trembling body as the memory played over and over again.

Yuta felt like the burning returned, the pressure and pain too much he collapsed onto the floor. His knees hit the pavemented foundation, making Yuta yelp in pain as his bones clanked together. He took a hold of his knees instead of touching his back, hoping the memory would leave him alone if he tried to will it away.

Images of Sicheng smiling at him, of them waking up together. Yuta was trying so incredibly hard to get rid of everything Taeyong. He scratched at his cheeks, denying himself the right to cry. He scratched and scratched, breaking the skin. Yuta didn’t realize until he wiped at his chest, hand on his stomach as he felt it shake.

Yuta felt the hot liquid drip down his cheeks. It wasn’t much, and the scrapes were tiny, but the Japanese boy yelped as blood fell onto his pants, the memory of leather hitting his skin and scarring his body coming to mind.

He couldn’t see, couldn’t remember, the person hitting him, but Yuta coupled Taeyong to the event. He whined loudly, not wanting to have a new memory of Taeyong that he despised, and so tried once again to think of Sicheng. Yuta moved over from the floor to a chair he remembered seeing Sicheng sit in once, holding his hands to his cheeks as if it would stop the bleeding.

Everything in Yuta’s body protested against the movements, wanting nothing but to collapse in on itself and fall back asleep. Yuta fought it for a couple seconds, sobs still leaving his body as he raised his head to look up the stairs at the closed door, wishing he could yell for Sicheng, wishing the boy would come and hug him close.

However, that didn’t happen. Nothing happened. Yuta couldn’t even hear movement around him anymore, buzzing feeling his ears and then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/softyjseo) [hey look it's my cc](https://curiouscat.me/softyjseo)


	7. 7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same warnings as the one in chapter one apply. 
> 
> we're switching over to Taeyong's point of view, just so you know. enjoy <3

‘’Do you want the formalities or straight to business?’’ An officer asked in Korean, making Taeyong stand still in surprise.

Taeyong eyed the police officer before nodding. Travelling to China to finally aid in the search for Yuta was tiring enough, Taeyong really wasn’t in for any sort of formalities. Besides, the police officer named Youngho that travelled with him had briefed him of the team working on the case in China. Taeyong guessed this officer’s name was Ten.

After seeing Yuta on the news back home, Taeyong was called into the office like he was almost every week. On those regular calls, they’d inform him of the progress made in the case, but a month after Yuta’s disappearance, new information was hard to find. This was the breakthrough the team needed.

They now knew where Yuta was. With who they couldn’t tell, but knowing they had his location was enough for Taeyong. He felt like he could breath again. He wouldn’t be happy until he could finally hold Yuta, his Yuta, back in his arms, but this got him closer than ever before.

After the two month mark, the police department pronounced Yuta dead. Taeyong, who was already as broken as someone could be, almost didn’t survive through that statement. Not until officer Seo called him and told him that the department had set up a small team to continue the search.

The squad consisted of officer Jung, officer Seo, officer Lee and detective Moon. Despite the fact that officer Lee was still a rookie, Taeyong had faith and decided to help any way he could. Which, turned out, wasn’t much. The team didn’t have much to work with other than two theories:

One; Yuta was kidnapped and taken by a crazy fanboy –the pictures of Yuta in the convenience store weren’t much, but the team could tell that it was certainly a male the Japanese boy was with—or two; Yuta was taken and murdered.

As soon as the pictures were released, theory two fell flat. In a weird way, when Taeyong saw the pictures, he felt relief wash over him. Not because of the fact that Yuta was kidnapped, but because of the fact that his boyfriend was still alive.

‘’Officer Seo briefed me. You must be Officer Leechai.’’ The smaller man in uniform nodded, and despite the situation, a smile making its way onto his face. ‘’Call me officer Ten, that should be fine. The team is back here.’’ Both Taeyong and Youngho followed Ten through the police station.

It wasn’t busy and Taeyong blamed it on the fact that this was a small town. Not much happened in small cities or villages. Taeyong knew it was selfish to think so, but now all officers could focus on getting his boyfriend back.

‘’Is everyone fluent in Korean here?’’ Ten snorted at Taeyong’s question, seemingly finding it very funny. He shook his head, though. ‘’Detective Qian can speak decent Korean. I lived in Korea for a while, hence the fluency. Oh! Officer Wong is fluent in English, but I don’t know if you can understand that?’’

‘’I’ll translate.’’ Youngho spoke up. Ten nodded in understanding, before opening a door to a meeting room. Two officers wearing the same uniform as Ten were in the room. One was standing by a board which seemed to contain theories and evidence, two big pictures of Yuta plastered next to some Mandarin scribbles Taeyong couldn’t make out, while the other one was seated at the table, nursing what seemed like a steaming hot cup of coffee while also looking at the board.

‘’They’re here.’’ Ten announced in Korean. Taeyong was way more at ease knowing he would be able to communicate with the officers and understand them. The two officers looked in their direction, before making their way to stand next to Ten.

‘’Good afternoon! I’m officer Qian Kun, nice to meet you.’’ Kun bowed his head and Taeyong followed suit. ‘’I’m Lee Taeyong, nice to meet you too.’’ It was a bit weird to say ‘nice’ in this scenario, but Taeyong guessed it was the only way Kun knew how to introduce himself. He had to remind himself that the officers weren’t all fluent like Ten.

Officer Wong introduced himself as well, English fluently rolling off the tongue. Youngho bowed his head at the both of them and introduced himself, before turning to a very confused Taeyong

‘’Officer Wong’s name is Kun-Hang. You can call him that. He’s sorry about the whole situation and said he’ll try his best to find Yuta.’’ Taeyong nodded before turning to Kun-Hang and thanking him in broken English.

After Taeyong sat down, every single officer in the room turned to him. He shivered at the attention, something he had grown to get used to while dating Yuta, but still didn’t like. While every time they went out or visited whatever event or runway show Yuta was invited to or walked on the attention was on Yuta and Yuta alone, Taeyong had to get used to the camera’s and paparazzi.

This was entirely different, however.

‘’What we’ve got so far,’’ Taeyong turned to look at Kun, who had moved to stand next to the board. ‘’Is basically—uhm—Mr Nakamoto is here in this village. We’re assuming that—that uhm—that he’s been here ever since his—‘’ Kun paused, eyes searching for Ten.

‘’Disappearance.’’ The male provided, making Kun smile at him gratefully before turning back to Taeyong. ‘’We don’t know who he’s with except for the gender. His kidnapper is a male.’’

Ten coughed before turning to Taeyong, as well. ‘’We think that the suspect took Mr Nakamoto from the club he was at in the text message you received that night. We assume that Mr Nakamoto didn’t go willingly, so either, he was drugged, or taken forcefully. The forceful theory seems rather impossible, due to the suspect’s physique in the picture.’’

Taeyong knew the picture by heart, had looked at it over and over again while crying his eyes out. He knew what the suspect looked like. He was barely visible, but even a blind person could see that despite Yuta’s small frame, the other male could not have picked Yuta up and walked off like nothing happened.

‘’So, what now?’’ Ten seemed to hold back a smile as he turned to the board fully, pointing at a map of the city. ‘’The store where the picture was taking is in this area.’’ With a red marker, the man made an almost perfect circle around three or four blocks of houses, if Taeyong could see it properly.

‘’It’s four streets that surround it, a graveyard and a small church. Most of the citizens who live there are above the age of fifty, so for our first search, we ruled those out. We’re left with just ten houses.’’ Ten continued, pushing the lid back on the marker before turning back to everyone in the room.

Kun-Hang was quietly taking notes, probably getting their report ready, and Taeyong felt a sliver of hope fill his chest with warmth. Ten houses. There wasn’t any confirmation that they’d find Yuta in one of them, or that the inhabitants were willing to cooperate, but Taeyong was hopeful.

For the first time in these horrible four months, Taeyong allowed himself to be hopeful.

‘’When are we starting?’’ Kun scoffed at Youngho’s question, pointing at his watch. ‘’Whenever we’re ready.’’

 

‘’Let’s start in this street. We’ve got two houses here and two houses across the street. Who’s taking which?’’ Ten asked as the five of them stood on the street. Taeyong thought it odd that such a small team was working on this while the entire department in Seoul was focused on it, but he supposed it had to do with the lack of manpower.

This village was small. Taeyong had seen it when he first entered the office, but there weren’t a lot of police officers needed to keep this town safe, probably. If they found Yuta, they’d probably get more man power.

‘’I think we should stick—stick together.’’ Kun’s voice was, despite the stutter and accent, resolute. Ten frowned at him, ‘’If we split up it’ll be mu—‘’

‘’Dong Sicheng lives here.’’ Ten’s entire demeanour changed, his eyes casting on the paper Kun was holding. Taeyong frowned as even Kun-hang seemed to react negatively to that name.

‘’Who?’’ Youngho asked before Taeyong could.

‘’Dong Sicheng. A bit of a troubled case, if I have to believe the older officers at the station.’’ Taeyong nodded, worrying his lip in his mouth as he turned to look at Kun. ‘’Let’s stay together for this block, then.’’

As everyone agreed, they made their way to the first house. An older lady opened the door and after explaining the situation –‘’I saw on the news! Did you find him yet?’’—Ten asked whether her son was home. As he was, the lady called him to the door.

Kun asked him some questions in Chinese that Taeyong couldn’t understand. Ten tried his hardest to translate for both Youngho and him while Kun-Hang took notes diligently. A couple minutes later the five of them stood on the sidewalk, crossing that house off their list.

‘’He wasn’t in town when Yuta was. According to his mother, Huang Renjun was on holiday with his friend Zhong Chenle. If the Zhong’s tell us the same story, he has an alibi.’’

‘’That crosses two of our list. Eight left.’’ Taeyong appreciated the fact that Ten was trying to keep everything positive, to keep everyone in a somewhat good spirit.

Everyone realized the severity of the situation. Back in Korea it had been a constant stream of questions, meetings and phone calls. News papers at Taeyong’s doorstep or waiting for him at the police office. It was completely mental and none of the detectives or officers on the case took this situation lightly.

Therefore, when right before Taeyong left for the airport, a police statement had been issued. For every person who stalled the investigation there would be repercussions. Taeyong hadn’t asked what, but it had seemed to help. Reporters from both China and South Korea seemed to keep their distance, only asking questions at appropriate times.

The five of them make way to the next two houses, finding males accompanied by either a significant other or a parent, either without a record or simply deemed unfit to be the one that Yuta was seen with. One of the males was in a wheel chair, for crying out loud.

‘’That leaves Dong.’’ Ten pointed at a house. Taeyong grimaced. It looked rather old, like any other house in the street, truly, but this one was different. It looked like someone hadn’t worked on it for a couple generations. As if no one had taken the time to redo the outside, repair the roof or clean the windows in ages.

If Taeyong had been here by himself, he would’ve guessed the house to be abandoned.

Ten walked into the front yard, passing by dead plants and unkept greenery. Taeyong hated this house already.

The first time the officer knocked, no one came to the door. They waited a couple moments before Youngho sighed, motioning for Ten to knock again. Ten nodded, turning to knock again, before the door opened.

‘’Hello?’’ Taeyong’s eyes widened as he saw Sicheng’s face. A deep bruise adorned his left eye, making his face look a little swollen. From the angle where he was standing, Taeyong was sure Sicheng couldn’t see him, so he continued on looking. The male was wearing simple clothes, a pair of jeans and a hoodie without shoes. Regular house clothes.

Except for the fact that one of his sleeves was empty, an arm shaped bump under the fabric of his hoodie instead. A broken arm of some sorts, Taeyong supposed.

‘’Good afternoon, Mr. Dong. Can we ask you some questions?’’ Ten’s question seemed to shock the boy, one of his hands reaching up for his teeth to nibble at his nails. Taeyong winced.

‘’Su—sure.’’ Kun was stood beside Taeyong, hiding him away from Sicheng as much as he could, a hushed whisper translating the conversation into the Korean boy’s ear.

‘’Have you seen this man?’’ Ten held up a picture of Yuta, one that Taeyong had picked out, and waited for a reaction to form on Sicheng’s face. When the officer received nothing but a small shake of the head, he continued.

‘’Where were you on the twenty-second of June, Mr. Dong?’’ Taeyong closed his eyes, a shaky breath leaving his lips. He remembered getting Yuta’s text that day, ‘ _Hey love, just letting you know that shooting went well. Phone is almost dead. Jungwoo and I are in a club and heading to the hotel soon. I’ll call tomorrow. Love u_ ’ and when Taeyong woke up with nineteen missed calls from Yuta’s manager and five from an unknown number, he knew something was wrong.

The unknown number turned out to be Jungwoo, calling Taeyong crying as he tried to explain what happened after the very confused boy finally answered Jungwoo’s sixth call.

For the next week or so everything was blurry. Taeyong couldn’t exactly remember most of the things that had gone down after Yuta’s disappearance, most of it blurred by press conferences and newspaper interviews.

Four and a half months ago. Taeyong had managed to survive this hell for over four months, and now here he was, in China, with a lead so powerful it gave Taeyong the hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel ever since this hell began.

‘’Can I go back inside now? I don’t want my cats to get out.’’ Taeyong was pulled back from his thoughts by Youngho, who pulled him away from the house. It was starting to get dark out, the air even chillier than it already had been, and the Korean officer looked at Taeyong with concern in his eyes.

‘’You good?’’ Taeyong nodded, turning to Kun instead. ‘’And? Is he a suspect?’’ Kun bit his lip, eyeing Ten and Kun-Hang before nodding.

‘’Based on what he told us—not necessarily. Based on his history—yeah. We’re keeping him on the list for now. If the others don’t lead anywhere, we’re requesting a warrant to search his house.’’ Taeyong frowned.

‘’What’s his history?’’ The five of them got into the police van, Kun-Hang taking the driver seat with Kun next to him. Ten decided to sit next to Taeyong and Youngho, seemingly determined to tell Taeyong exactly what Sicheng’s history was.

‘’He was adopted by the Xiao’s when he was two years old. Lovely family, pretty great people, if I have to believe everything the villagers have told us. Sicheng was lucky to be adopted by them. But, when the boy was eleven years old, people invaded their home. Sicheng was lucky to get out alive, or so they say. The only injury he had were bloody knuckles and a split lip, while his adoptive parents were brutally attacked. I’m not going to get into detail—but it was horrendous, truthfully.’’ Taeyong swallowed, waiting for Ten to continue.

‘’Some people—actually, scratch that—a lot of the officers at the station, especially the older ones, believe Sicheng killed his parents. I said the Xiao’s were nice people, but Sicheng was a pretty messed up kid. According to neighbours they’d hear screaming during the night and sometimes the boy would just sit in their front yard with this music box, humming along to the tune over and over again.’’ Taeyong gasped, his hand covering his mouth as he eyed Kun and Kun-Hang through the front mirror of the vehicle.

‘’During trial, the secret that Sicheng was sexually abused came out. He was brought to a clinic three hundred kilometres from here, but came back as soon as he turned eighteen and moved right back into the house.’’ Taeyong felt the food he had gotten on the airplane rise in his throat, eyes burning with tears as he listened to Ten talk.

‘’Why do you suspect he killed them?’’ Youngho then asked, also listening with great interest.

‘’Because—because nothing ever happens in this town. There’s no such thing as home invasions that end up in two horrible murders. Not now and definitely not ten years ago. It’s strange and Sicheng definitely has the motive to do such a thing.’’ Taeyong looked out of the window, the houses getting more and more modern as they drove into the downtown area.

Could Sicheng have Yuta? Could it be the case that while Taeyong was standing outside, listening to the Chinese male talk, Yuta had sat inside, scared? Wishing for Taeyong to come and save him?

‘’Stop thinking.’’ Youngho whispered into his ear, as if he could read Taeyong’s mind. ‘’I can hear you thinking. If Sicheng is the one who has him, we’ll find him.’’ Taeyong nodded, appreciating Youngho being here with him.

At least he had someone somewhat familiar in this strange and unknown village.

‘’So Sicheng is our suspect for now?’’ Ten hummed just as Kun pulled into the parking lot, shifting the gears and turning off the car.

‘’He’s our prime suspect.’’ Kun said, his eyes trained on Taeyong’s through the front mirror. ‘’He’s the only one on the list that would be capable of such a thing. No one on the list—not one—has a criminal record.’’ Taeyong nodded.

Just two weeks ago he had nowhere to search. The police department in Seoul was losing spirit and Taeyong was losing hope by the second. But here he was, in China, with a prime suspect and Yuta somewhere in this town. Hidden in a basement, a shed or anything else.

Taeyong slammed the car door shut after himself, knowing Youngho and Ten were getting out on the other side, and he closed his eyes. This was it. He’d finally, after therapy and a lot of help, have his old Yuta back. Taeyong was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	8. 8.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same warnings as before apply.
> 
> This chapter mentions use of a calming drug and a fight. 
> 
> enjoy x

Yuta had apologized over and over, had sat on his knees, kissed Sicheng’s feet, all in order for the boy to forgive him. It had taken a couple days, if Yuta’s mind wasn’t betraying him once more, before Sicheng had kissed him and taken him out of the basement and everything was alright again.

The news article still antagonized Yuta’s mind, but in order to keep Sicheng happy and most importantly, by his side, the Japanese male didn’t mention it again. He didn’t mention the article, but he especially stirred away from the room he had ran into while running away from Sicheng.

He refrained himself from asking questions when some ‘mean people’ had come to the door, instead focusing on kissing Sicheng’s tears away when the boy had sat down on the couch next to Yuta, completely out of his mind in panic and stress.

Later that night, Sicheng mumbled sentences to himself while sleeping restlessly, screaming and trashing while Yuta sat on the side of the bed, his heart heavy with the fact that he couldn’t help his boyfriend whatsoever.

Things called down a three or four days later. Sicheng was back to himself again, doting on Yuta a little more than usual, but other than that everything was fine again. Yuta was happy to let himself be dotted upon, taking everything Sicheng was giving him with open and grateful arms.

They shared kisses, cuddled on the couch watching drama’s or anime till late in the night, Yuta even got to help Sicheng in the garden. At one point, Sicheng gave Yuta a camera, which resulted in the Japanese boy taking picture after picture of the Chinese male, keeping the polaroid’s close to him at all times. His back-pocket of his pair of jeans was full and the pictures were damaged fast, but Yuta didn’t mind. The more pictures of Sicheng, the better.

A week –it felt like a week, but Yuta couldn’t be sure—after the ‘mean people’ had come to the door and completely threw Sicheng off, the doorbell rang again.

Sicheng’s arm around Yuta tightened, his bottom lip in between his teeth in an instant. “Should I?’’ Yuta asked, wanting Sicheng to stay the way he is and not become that shell of a man he was for two nights in a row after the people had come.

Sicheng shook his head rapidly, placing a kiss on Yuta’s cheek before standing up. Yuta mourned the loss of contact as he watched Sicheng walk to the door leading to the hallway, his body moving to the front door with soft steps.

‘’Babe?’’ he called out.

‘’Yes?’’

“Remember that I love you, okay?” Yuta’s eyes widened, his heart beat going one hundred miles per hour. Sicheng loved him? They had never said those words before. Did Yuta love him? Why now? 

‘’I—I love you, too.’’ Yuta responded softly, hoping Sicheng could hear him from where he was standing. The living room door slammed closed due to a gush of wind, leaving Sicheng out of his sight and Yuta away from whoever was at the door. It also meant Sicheng had opened the door.

Yuta heard muffled voices, multiple different tones and heaviness which meant multiple people were at the door. He softly stood up, careful not to stand on the planks on the floor that he knew would make a sound. He reached the living room door, placing his head against the wood to try and hear what was going on.

It didn’t really help at all. Yuta had the urge to yell in frustration, not quite ready to nurse Sicheng back to his regular self if it were the same people at the door. The difference in tones scared Yuta, some sounding angry, others more concerned. What was going on out there?

A crash could be heard, someone hitting their foot against the wall before Yuta heard Sicheng scream loudly. Yuta didn’t hesitate, throwing the door open. He gasped, tears welling up in his eyes as two police officers Sicheng in a chokehold, the small Chinese man struggling against them.

Yuta rushed down the hall, the officers not having seen him yet, and screamed.

“Stay away from him!! What are you doing?! You’re hurting him!” Sicheng’s eyes widened as he watched Yuta run down the porch, throwing himself at the police officers with a loud yell.

“He didn’t—he didn’t—hey! What are you doing? Let me go?!” Yuta struggled against two more police officers, trashing his legs and arms to try and get closer to Sicheng. Yuta watched tears run down Sicheng’s cheeks, the Japanese boy’s heart breaking into tiny pieces.

“Let me go! Let him go!’’ Yuta’s voice was loud and clear, tears rushing down his own face as he kept on struggling against the two police officers.

“Yuta! Yuta! We need—we need you to calm down! This man has done bad things to you!” Yuta shook his head in disbelief. What were these people talking about? What do they know? Was that Korean? Why did Yuta understand that?

“No! He didn’t do anything wrong! Sich—Sicheng! I love you! Please don’t leave me!’’ Yuta was sobbing at his point, hiccups breaking apart his speech in Japanese. Sicheng looked at him, his eyes screaming at Yuta.

Anger rushed through Yuta’s veins, making the boy surge forward and out of the police officer’s grip. He ran across the lawn to where Sicheng was still struggling against the officers, throwing his arms around the Chinese male before anyone could stop him. Yuta hugged him close, dodging the hands of police officers.

“I love you Sichengie! Do—‘’ Yuta was interrupted by someone pulling him away roughly, a guttural scream leaving his lips as he was taken from Sicheng once more. “No! No! Stop—Let me go! He didn’t do anything!” Yuta kept on screaming, even as he watched Sicheng go limp in the hands of the officers, now handcuffed.

Yuta kept kicking his legs around, twisting his torso to try and get away. He managed to wriggle out of one officer’s grip, kicking the other in the shin as hard as he could with a loud yell leaving his mouth. 

Halfway across the lawn toward Sicheng once more, Yuta turned his head for a split second. He stopped in his tracks, almost stumbling to the floor, as he saw a familiar face with tears rushing down their cheeks. Red hair, kitten like eyes. This was Taeyong.

Immediately, Yuta felt the stings on his back and the slash of a whip against his legs, changing directions to run toward Taeyong with the loudest scream Yuta had ever managed.

‘’This—This is all your fault! You ruined everything.” Yuta screamed out, his hands reaching out to wrap around Taeyong’s throat, but being pulled away roughly by three more officers. Taeyong stood there, frozen in his place with his mouth opening, emotions Yuta couldn’t and didn’t bother to read evident in his eyes.

Anger rushed through him as he heard Sicheng yell out for him, watched as he was dragged into a police van. “Let! Him! Go!” Yuta didn’t stop fighting, trashing in the hold of the officers till a painful sting hit his neck, his eyes going heavy and his body growing unconscious quickly.

 

Yuta’s eyes felt heavy, his lids twitching as he opened them slowly. Loud beeps and whizzing noises filled his ears, making the boy’s throbbing head scream in agony. As the room slowly went from blurry to normal, Yuta realized this was not Sicheng and his bedroom.

This was not even close to their home. It wasn’t even the basement. Yuta had no idea where he was, panic rising in his throat as he realized that Sicheng was nowhere near him. He looked around, shivers running down his spine at the white sterile walls, machines attached to him by tubes and needles and a window across from where he was laying, two people standing with their back to him on the other side, as if on guard for something.

On guard for what? Yuta was safe and sound in Sicheng’s house—Why did they take him? Where did they take him? Where did they take Sicheng?

Yuta felt tears slip from his eyes. “Sichengie?” Without an answer, Yuta felt the panic becoming tighter and tighter in his chest, his trembling hands reaching out into the nothingness of the room.

“Sichengie! This isn’t funny! Where are you?” Yuta screamed out, tears now fully coming down his face. He could hear noises behind the door, making Yuta scream even louder. Was it Sicheng? He trashed around in his bed, ignoring the pain that shot through him with every movement. If that was Sicheng, Yuta had to get to him and they would have to run!

The door opened just as Yuta was trying to get out of bed, one leg already out and almost reaching the floor. A nice looking woman rushed to Yuta’s side, grabbing ahold of his ankle and pushing it back into the bed. Yuta yelped out, sitting up fast to try and undo what the nurse had just done.

“I—I need to get to Sicheng. Do you—Do you know where he is?” The nurse looked behind her, the two men who were standing in front of the window now stood in the doorway. Yuta recognized their badges. Police officers. He gritted his teeth, pointing with one hand.

“You took! You took my Sichengie! Where is he?! I need him!” Yuta supposed he was talking in a language the officers understood, because they shook their heads. “He’s at the station. You’re safe now, I promise.”

Yuta shook his head, kicking his legs from the bed once more. The nurse didn’t do anything this time, just stood back and watched. “I was safe with him! Everything was fine! Then—then you came! And ruined it!” Yuta wanted to reach out his left arm to try and grab at the pole near the bed so he could stand up, but felt something tug him back.

He turned his head, gasping as he saw a pair of handcuffs tying him to the bedframe by one hand. “Let me go! This is—This is illegal! You—you took my boyfriend without any reason! And now you—you tie me to the bed! I’m not a criminal! You guys are!” The officers just stood there, worried expressions on their faces. Yuta felt annoyed. Were they not listening?

“I want Sicheng! Leave me alone! I only want him!” Yuta was screaming at his point, shaking in his bed as sobs wrecked through his body. He loved Sicheng! Why could they not understand that?

“He’s the same as Dong. They won’t talk without the other.” Yuta looked up from where he was angrily staring at the handcuffs to see a third officer now at his door, whispering in a hushed voice. Where they talking about Sicheng?

“Hey! Can you help me?! I want—I need to know where Sichengie is!” The third officer was smaller than the others, shorter. Yuta hoped he would be nicer.

The shorter officer walked into the room, taking a seat next to Yuta’s bed. His eyes were filled with pity, something Yuta didn’t quite understand. “Hi Yuta, it’s nice to finally meet you. My name is Ten.” Yuta nodded, whispering a ‘nice to meet you, too’ back at Ten. The officer smiled.

“Sicheng is with us at the station. He did some really bad things to you, Yuta. But you’ll see him again soon.” The two other police officers seemed to disagree as one cursed under his breath. Ten looked at said officer with a frown on his face.

“You haven’t been at the station, Kun. Sicheng won’t stop screaming. He already broke three of our chairs and even chugged his water at Kun-Hang.” Yuta frowned. Sicheng was upset? 

“I need—I need to go to him! He’s upset! Let me help!” Yuta begged, grabbing Ten’s wrist with his free hand. Ten turned to look at him again, a small smile on his face that Yuta recognized to be fake.

“Soon. For now, I need you to sleep and rest. You’ve been through a lot.” Yuta had no idea what Ten was talking about, but his voice made Yuta want to listen. The throbbing in his head returned now that he had nothing else to focus on, and he watched Ten nod at the nurse before the woman inserted something into the bag with liquid attached to the pole.

“Do you—Do you promise? I’ll see him soon?” Yuta’s heart broke with every minute he wasn’t with Sicheng, tears welling up in his eyes once more at the thought of his boyfriend at the police station, so angry and lost he was throwing chairs around.

Ten nodded, “I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happily ever after, right? 
> 
> [my twit](https://twitter.com/softyjseo)
> 
> [my cc](https://curiouscat.me/)
> 
>  
> 
> it's ok if u wanna scream at me. i would too.


	9. 9.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long wait yadayadayada enrara was due i had to put this on the back burner sjsjs i'm sorry

Even though Yuta had kept his mouth tightly shut, jaw aching from the unnecessary strain, his throat hurt. Fingers were curled around the sheets to keep himself from screaming out, Yuta so close to begging for Sicheng again.

Earlier that day he had done exactly that, which to Yuta’s recollection, had ended in two police officers strapping him to the bed, single cuff around his wrist no longer enough.

The police officers –including Ten—took shifts to sit with him, Yuta noticed. He supposed they hoped and waited for him to talk but Yuta was sure there was nothing to talk about. They took Sicheng from him and that was the only issue. Oh, and that Taeyong guy, who Yuta had seen through the window looking at him a few times now.

The thought of having to be close to the redhead made Yuta shiver in his bed, a whimper leaving his throat.

The noise seemed to alert the tall officer seated on the other side of the room. His eyes shifted from the book in his lap to look at Yuta, eyes questioning as if Yuta wanted to say something to him.

The Japanese boy had to resist the urge to sneer. If he remembered correctly, this officer had been the one to pull him away from Taeyong. And Sicheng.

Yuta closed his eyes, swallowing down his dry throat as he wondered how Sicheng was doing. Was he okay? Did he miss Yuta too? Was he in pain? Yuta felt like crying at the image of Sicheng crying, small and alone, heart shattering into pieces.

“Look—” the sound of a book hitting wood made Yuta look up, the officer now standing at the end of his bed. “You’re going to have to talk someday, Yuta. You can’t keep quiet and protect Sicheng forever.” Yuta frowned; eyes angry as he looked at the man. He could stay as quiet as he desired to be, and within time, everyone would realize the mistake they made and Sicheng and him could finally return to their lives together.

And therefore, he shook his head. Yuta relished in the slight hint of frustration on the officer’s face, turning to look at his arm strapped to the bed instead. He tugged once, twice, three times before the officer huffed, dropping his book on the table again before leaving the room with a loud sigh.

Yuta smiled triumphantly.

His smile fell soon, though, two officers and Ten making their way into his room and rounding his bed. Yuta wanted to yell for help, but he took solace in the look Ten gave him before sitting down on his bed.

“Yuta?” Yuta hummed, completely focusing on Ten’s voice and face, as opposed to staying focused on all three officers in the room. They were mean. Ten wasn’t; Ten understood.

“You have a visitor.” Yuta’s eyes widened. Was it Sicheng? Was he there? Could they finally go home?

“It’s not Dong.” One of the other officer’s snarled, making Yuta bite his lip. Tears welled in his eyes as Ten threw the officer a nasty look, hands starting to shake. Who else could it be?

Instead of what he had hoped, Yuta was greated with more officers entering the room. 

 

“We _need_ him to start talking.” Taeyong raised from the plastic chair he had been sat on, walking toward a very frustrated looking Youngho. Ten beat him to it, however, smacking his shoulder lightly.

“Stop treating Yuta like he’s the culprit. We all know that Yuta was with Sicheng for a long time. Who knows what Dong did to him?” Ten hissed at the older, making Taeyong’s knuckles itch a little bit. “What do you mean?” Taeyong felt rage rise in his chest at the thought of Sicheng hurting Yuta, eyes starting to well up with tears like they seemed to do more often these past few days.

They had been in the hospital for four days now, with no word from either Sicheng or Yuta. The both of them had kept utterly quiet, only asking for bathroom breaks and the likes. No one had uttered a word about what had gone down during the four months Sicheng had Yuta, and it was frustrating to the core.

Ten eyed Taeyong with pity in his eyes, making Taeyong want to pick his own eyes out. His hours of sleep the past weeks could be counted on two hands and honestly, his patience was running out. He understood the officers wanted to go about this the best way possible, even going as far as getting a Korean clinic to send them a couple of their best therapists to get everything to run smoothly. But nothing would be set in motion till either of them talked.

Taeyong just wanted to hold Yuta’s hand again. After the reaction Yuta had had on him, Taeyong was denied the right to visit the boy until they had done further examinations. So far, the doctors and nurses, even one of the therapists who went in dressed as a nurse, hadn’t said much about Yuta’s state of mind.

The only thing Taeyong had heard being muttered among two doctors and said therapist was something with a syndrome, but he didn’t want to hear it. Yuta was still his Yuta, somewhere deep down. Taeyong only hoped they could reach that far down again, one day.

“What I _mean_ is that Sicheng might have done something to make Yuta believe that he’ll be hurt if he talks, or his family.” Taeyong shivered, remembering the phone call he had had with Yuta’s parents the night before. The couple had wanted to fly over, but Taeyong had managed to talk them out of it. There was no use anyway. No one could visit him.

“That doesn’t explain his reaction at the house.” Kun joined them, handing the three of them steaming cups of coffee. Taeyong took a sip immediately, the taste of mediocre hospital coffee filling his mouth and burning his tongue. He didn’t even flinch.

“We’ll have to see what the therapists and phycologists say.” Ten tried to ease Youngho, who was getting more and more frustrated by the second. Taeyong could sense it and no matter how much he appreciated all of their concern and willingness to help Yuta, he also wanted his boyfriend to talk.

There was only one way to make that happen.

“Let him see Sicheng.” All three officers turned to look at Taeyong, who held his cup close to his face, as if to shield him from what was coming next.

“We can’t do that.” Kun was the first to comment.

“It would make them talk. Have them be in the same room.” Ten continued, completely dismissing Kun’s comment and Youngho’s worried expression.

“It’s the only way. How many chairs has Dong broken? How many times has he thrown his drink at one of our officers? Did you forget he tried to fucking stab you with a pencil, Youngho? He wants to see Yuta. He’ll calm down and he’ll tell us what he did after. We’ll make a promise to either of them, on one condition.” Ten was clearly on Taeyong’s side of things, looking between both Kun and Youngho to gauge their reactions.

Kun-Hang was back at the station with Sicheng, sitting out his duty to protect the other officers from Sicheng’s wrath. The boy seemed weak and skinny, but had a mean punch –one of the officers at the station now had a black eye. Taeyong pitied the poor rookie—and was smart. Terribly so.

Youngho sighed, dropping his face in one hand. Kun hummed, seemingly thinking everything through before nodding. “Fine.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Youngho exclaimed, annoyance clear on his features. One look from Ten did the trick though, and he nodded after looking at Taeyong. “Fine.” With that, the three officers made their way into Yuta’s room, Taeyong desperately craving to follow, craving and needing Yuta’s touch.

Both parties agreed extremely fast, and two days later Yuta was being wheeled to an empty room in the hospital, excitement clear on his face and a little bounce in his knee the closer they got. He was finally seeing Sicheng again! After so long!

“This is it.” The nurse walking in front of them stopped next to a door and Yuta hummed in excitement, eying the door knob as if that would make the door open faster. It took a minute, the nurse eyeing Ten and the other officer that had accompanied Yuta down stairs, before opening the door.

Yuta felt the urge to scream as Sicheng came into view after being apart for so long. The boy looked positively wrecked, bags under his eyes that were almost black, bruises littering his arms. Yuta wanted to cry. Sicheng must’ve inflicted those onto himself.

“Siche—”

“Yuyu!” Sicheng’s voice sounded so broken and it made Yuta’s heart shatter in his chest. He hadn’t been able to make his boyfriend feel better no matter how much he had wanted to, the mean officers keeping them apart for no apparent reason. Yuta was so confused but incredibly happy at the same time.

His wheelchair was pushed further into the room, Yuta now within arm reach from the trembling boy in his chair. He was locked to the chair, handcuffs wrapped around his left wrist in order to keep him there. Yuta frowned. Sicheng wasn’t a danger to anyone in that room, especially him.

“Let him go.” Yuta ordered, eyeing the officer that was sat next to Sicheng. He scoffed, shaking his head. “These cuffs are staying on, Yuta.” The Japanese boy frowned, biting his lip.

“I missed you.” Sicheng whispered, completely disregarding what the officer had said. Yuta felt warmth spread through his body, a smile appearing on his voice. He could hear people whispering behind his back, but he didn’t care. Sicheng was there.

“I missed you, too.” Yuta answered, reaching his right hand out hesitantly. He flinched when someone moved, afraid they’d take his hand away. Sicheng reached out his hand, but the officer was quick to grab his hand.

“ _Let them touch, Kunhang.”_ Yuta didn’t understand what Ten just said, but the officer seemed to understand. He let go of Sicheng’s hand, who clearly had understood what Ten said. He reached back out, grabbing Yuta’s right hand in his.

More Cantonese was thrown around between the officers in the room. Sicheng seemed to understand everything, his face falling with each and every comment the officers made. All Yuta could do was caress the skin of Sicheng’s hand with his thumb, hoping to calm him down.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Yuta whispered, hoping the officers wouldn’t hear him. He wasn’t sure if any of them could speak Japanese, and Yuta didn’t want to take such a risk. So, he kept to whispering, when all he wanted to do was scream.

“What did you just say?” Yuta winced as his hand was pulled away from Sicheng, making the already very distraught boy scream out and follow Yuta’s movements. Yuta felt his heart break once more.

“Nothing.” Yuta spat, pulling his hand back roughly. “Nothing of your business, anyway.” He continued, turning back to smile at Sicheng. The boy was breathing heavily now, tears streaming down his face. Yuta felt pain surge through him, wanting nothing more than to cuddle Sicheng close and wipe away his tears like he would’ve been able to do if they had been at home.

“I love you.” He then said in Japanese for the whole room to hear. “We’ll get out of here.” Officers were moving around now and Yuta heard the door open, his wheelchair grabbed from the back.

“You can’t keep us apart forever!” Yuta screamed, struggling against the handcuff around his wrist. “I love you!” Sicheng screamed back, making Yuta’s heart surge in his chest.

He blew a kiss with his hand before a tear slipped from his eye, being wheeled away by two very aggravated officers.

“I don’t fucking care if he talks now. We caught him red handed, he’ll be in jail for years.” Yuta turned his head as far as he could to be able to look at one of the officers. “Jail? Why would Sichengie go to jail? He did nothing wrong! You took me from him!” He screamed, clearly startling the officer.

The officer sighed, eyed Ten, before stopping the wheelchair in the middle of the hallway. It was deserted but Yuta could still feel his skin crawl, knowing that something bad was about to happen.

The officer took two steps to stand in front of Yuta, his big hands coming down to grab the armrests and lean into him.

“Youn—”

Ten was interrupted by the officer holding up his hand.

“Look, Yuta,” Yuta closed his eyes, scared of the close proximity the officer was. “Sicheng took you from your regular life. Drugged you in a bar or somewhere else and to his house. He _murdered_ his adoptive parents in cold blood, kept you in his house and completely mauled your body if the burns on your back and the scars on your legs are anything to go by, and yet you still say he did nothing wrong?” Yuta whimpered; eyes tightly closed. If he wished hard enough, the officer would leave him alone.

“Okay, Youngho. That’s enough. You go get some fresh air. I’ll bring him back to his room.” With a loud huff and some whispered English that Yuta –again— didn’t understand, the officer –Youngho apparently—was gone, making Yuta release an even louder whimper.

Sicheng did none of those things! Those burns didn’t come from his boyfriend. They came from Taeyong! Taeyong did this to him! Sicheng did nothing!

“Let’s get you back to your room.” Yuta wanted to protest, his body still shaking like a leaf and mind whirring with different scenarios, Youngho’s words echoing off of the walls of head, trying to get into his mind and change his views. Well, it wasn’t going to work. Sicheng wasn’t guilty for any of those things, and Yuta couldn’t wait for the day when everyone else figured that out, too.

He kept his mouth shut, no matter how hard Ten tried to make small talk. He said nothing when he was lifted back in bed, legs still far too weak for him to walk. He kept his mouth shut when a different officer took Ten’s place at the door, guarding it.

Instead, Yuta let his head drop into his pillow. He banned officer Youngho’s words from his head, filling it with the feeling of Sicheng’s hand in his after such a long time. The way Sicheng said ‘I love you’ to him and the hope that soon enough they’ll be together once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 chapters left,, what do we think fellas
> 
> comments and kudo's are highly appreciated i love u
> 
> [My Twitter Hello](https://twitter.com/softyjseo)
> 
> [Ask me questions on my cc](https://curiouscat.me/)


	10. 10.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:
> 
> -mention of self harm scars.  
> -there's an attack scene. may qualify as attempted murder. keep in mind  
> -mention of self harm in general  
> -this takes place in a psych ward. it's not a hospital but a separate clinic for those going through severe traumas. if this triggers you, please read at your own caution. 
> 
>  
> 
> i love u. i hope you're okay.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Yuta had no idea how much time had passed, his heart breaking each and every time someone else other than Sicheng walked through the door to greet him.

During the time they were apart, Yuta had been moved. He had no idea where he was, but assumed he was back in South Korea, because Korean is all he heard throughout the day. The lady he met with three times a day spoke it, the people who lived on the same floor as him spoke it –he didn’t get to talk to them much, but during dinner he was able to hear it.—and he himself found that he was speaking it, too.

Yuta scratched a small line on the wall with the black charcoal pencil he had stolen from a different lady in a white coat. Their sessions mostly consisted of Yuta staring at a blank piece of paper as the lady tried to make him talk or draw about his time with Sicheng. Ninety nine percent of the time this ended in Yuta having a crying fit and being escorted back to his room, or the isolation room padded with white pillow walls.

Only once had it ended a little better than that. Yuta had completely ignored the lady seated at the opposite side of the table in favor of drawing Sicheng seated on a wooden chair at a desk, pen in hand as he wrote to his parents.

Yuta was allowed to keep the drawing and it hung proudly above his bed, so he could look at it every night. He had also managed to convince one of the men walking around the facility to let him have a picture of Sicheng. It was the picture taken after his arrest and granted, Yuta felt like crying every time he saw the horrible look on his boyfriend’s face, but he was happy he had something. A sliver of happiness in his cold and white room, where everyone around him seemed to think he was either crazy or deluded.

Yuta didn’t know.

Yuta never talked. He didn’t answer any questions, refused to speak of the events that had taken place. He hoped that one day everyone was going to realize that what they thought Sicheng had done to him wasn’t true. Sicheng had saved Yuta. The police took him away from the Japanese boy, and now he was lonely, depressed and haunted by nightmares.

Sometimes they’d consist of boiling water, sometimes fire spreading through his veins. Sometimes it was just Sicheng being taken away over and over again and the most horrible ones were the ones where Taeyong, that awful redhead Yuta kept seeing around, killed Sicheng without Yuta being able to do something about it.

There are scars littered across Yuta’s arms now, signs of nights where everything got too much. Where his mind was working against him instead of working with him. Soon enough that canvas ran out and Yuta continued on his legs.

When the people in their stupid white coats found out, they took away the knife Yuta had stolen from dinner time the first week he had gotten here. There are black lines on the wall to count the days, but Yuta isn’t sure if he actually had put one down every single day. He had completely lost track of time.

He could walk again, though. And he was allowed time in the gardens of the place he was at. Yuta never bothered to ask. As long Sicheng wasn’t here, he couldn’t care less. He’d be leaving this place soon enough.

Yuta would walk across the field, completely forgoing the beautiful roses other ‘patients’—one of the women in a white coat called the group Yuta was in that once—would usually sit and admire to instead walk toward the orange tulips in the left corner of the garden. The color reminded him of the orange butterfly weed Sicheng had placed at his parents’ grave that day they went to visit.

He’d sit and listen to the wind, rustle his fingers through the grass and once he even plucked a flower, sneaking it into his room. During dinner he hadn’t drunken his water and asked to take it to his room instead, putting the orange tulip in the glass by the tiny window Yuta had.

The window overlooked the garden and so Yuta could look at the flowers every single day. The tulips were right out of sight for him though, so he was left looking at roses and lilies and cheerful sunflowers that made Yuta want to barf.

That’s what he was doing now. He was seated on the white chair that had found his permanent position in front of his window, eyeing the patients that were now out and about. Some were in wheelchairs; others had their hands bound together. Most of them were walking along freely, however.

Yuta smiled a tiny smile as he watched one of the younger patients, a seven-year-old girl, skip among the grass. He had no idea why everyone was here, but he knew that everyone had gone through some tough times in order to be here. Yuta was just misplaced. He couldn’t wait for the day the stupid white coat men and women would find out.

A knock on the door wasn’t enough to get Yuta to look away from the tiny girl, the black bun atop of her head bouncing as she skipped across the pathways. The door was opened and Yuta sighed, turning his head to the side to see who had walked in.

He wasn’t sure whether or not it was time to sit with the drawing lady again, but he stayed put in his seat. He didn’t want to go.

“It’s visiting hours.” Yuta felt the need to scream. Yuta couldn’t keep track on how often visiting hours were and when they happened, but every time the same man –he had learned the man to be named Jongin—came to get him and announced that same sentence, every hair on Yuta’s body would shoot up right, sit on end.

“I don’t want to see him.” Yuta’s voice was scratchy. He hadn’t talked all day except for a tiny greeting this morning to one of his hallmates during breakfast. The boy he had greeted had smiled and waved before turning to his breakfast, and that was that.

“Come on.” Jongin didn’t listen but didn’t grab onto Yuta, either. He just stood in the doorway, while Yuta stayed seated on his chair. Yuta guessed they weren’t allowed to touch until necessary, so he stayed put.

“Make him leave.” Jongin hummed a negative reply and instead opened the door wider than before. As if that would make Yuta come and see Taeyong.

“You can’t refuse again. You’ve used them for this week.” There was a system. Patients were allowed to refuse visiting hours three times a week. Yuta wasn’t sure how often he had refused this week, wasn’t even sure which day of the week it was, but he sighed. He stood up, the white t-shirt he was wearing falling over his skinny, almost unhealthily so, figure while his pants hugged his hips tightly.

“What day of the week is it?” He asked, voice soft and low. Jongin’s eyes widened, before schooling his expression.

“It’s Thursday.” Yuta hummed and walked out of his room promptly, leaving Jongin to scurry behind him. Yuta couldn’t refuse again, but he could leave after seeing Taeyong after a minute. Usually he sat through Taeyong telling him lie after lie, showing pictures of the two of them that couldn’t possibly be real.

He couldn’t handle any of that today. Not when his heart yearned for Sicheng so badly. His day had been effectively ruined that morning, when officer Youngho oh so kindly took the courtesy to inform that Sicheng’s trial would be starting in four weeks. Which meant Yuta didn’t have time for Taeyong’s bullshit.

Jongin caught up to Yuta and opened the door toward the visiting ward. Multiple other patients were seated at tables talking to other people. Yuta always noticed that the others who didn’t come from within the building looked so happy to see the person they were here to visit.

Taeyong always looked incredibly sad.

Yuta had hoped one day Taeyong would stop coming, sick of that sad feeling, but no. The man continued to visit each time. One time, Taeyong mentioned Yuta’s parents. Yuta hadn’t been able to function for a week after that, having completely forgotten about them as people.

He didn’t want to see them, anyway. They were most likely on the side of the police, sharing the opinion that what Sicheng had done was wrong.

It didn’t take long for Yuta to spot Taeyong. The usual redhead had dyed his hair to a raven black, which made Yuta want to turn right back around and walk back to his room. No one looked as beautiful as Sicheng with black hair.

“Yuta!” Taeyong greeted the Japanese boy with his fake enthusiasm each time. Yuta never responded. He sat down in the seat in front of Taeyong despite there being room for multiple people next to the other man. Taeyong visibly deflated once more before clearing his throat.

“How have you been?” Yuta didn’t answer. He kept his eyes on the table, thumbs fiddling together. Taeyong sighed. Yuta listened to the others talking around them, stories being told and progress being shared.

“I brought other pictures.” Yuta rolled his eyes as he closed them, because of course Taeyong brought other pictures. He looked up to look at Jongin, who had turned his back on them like he usually did to give them some sort of privacy. After Yuta had attacked Taeyong when Sicheng was captured, he was never allowed to be alone with him. Yuta didn’t mind.

“I want to leave.” Yuta said, hoping to grasp Jongin’s attention. The man, however, didn’t budge. 

Taeyong scrambled to put the pictures on the table faster as Yuta stood up from his seat. He casted his eyes down to the table once more before gasping. The table was littered with clumsily laid down pictures of himself in different poses, different clothes and odd backgrounds.

He recognized most of them from Sicheng’s small room where pictures of him had been hung on the walls. One of them even had the same fold in the corner as the one Yuta had seen in that room.

These were from Sicheng.

“How did you get these?” Yuta spat out, his arm coming down on the table as he looked at each and every picture, fake memories screaming at him. Taeyong shivered in his seat.

“Th—the police g—gave them to—to me.” Yuta bristled, his eyes seeing red. This wasn’t allowed. These are Sicheng’s pictures.

“You stole them from Sichengie?!” Yuta screamed, pushing the pictures away from himself. He was shaking now.

“No! I didn’t steal them! They gave me them!” Yuta shook his head feverishly, still pushing at the pictures. Other people were eyeing them now.

“They—sicheng kept them. To remind himself of me. These are his! Give them back to him! He needs to remember me!” Yuta was screaming loudly by now. Jongin still didn’t move but he could see from the corner of his eye that the man was rapidly speaking into an earpiece.

Taeyong stood up.

“He doesn’t need to remember you, Yuta! He never even loved you in the first p—” Yuta surged forward over the table, his hands clasping right around Taeyong’s throat before the boy react.

“He loved me! How dare you! _You_ were the one to scar me! _You_ were the one who hurt me! Sicheng _saved_ me! Wh—” Taeyong’s eyes were turning red, mouth gaped open to try and get air into his lungs. Yuta smiled sinisterly, his grip tightening.

“Sicheng loved me more than anyone ever co—Hey! What are you—No! let go of me!” Yuta trashed his legs when arms reached for it, people pulling at his shoulders and Taeyong’s hands flying up to pull at Yuta’s hands and arms.

“He did this to me! He’s the one! Not Sicheng!” A rough pull around his waist made Yuta lose his grip around Taeyong’s neck, the other gasping for breath with his eyes blown wide. Yuta scrambled, flailing his arms to try and reach the black-haired boy again.

“Let me go! Let me go you imbeciles!” He wouldn’t stop trashing, eyes on Taeyong at all times. The man was helped off of where he had collapsed onto the ground, tears now leaving his eyes. Yuta deemed it pathetic.

Yuta could hear the room being cleared around them but didn’t register it, voice still screaming and rambling. “Sicheng did nothing! Taey—he’s the one! He did this to me!” no one listened. They kept pulling at Yuta, trying to get him away from Taeyong.

He was going absolutely haywire.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll fuc—let go of me! I’ll fucking kill you, Taeyong!” A sting in his arm was enough to alarm Yuta and for a split second he seized all movements. Then, he knocked his elbow into the nearest stomach, the guard letting him go in favor of grabbing onto his stomach. Before Yuta could move, however, his knees fell out. He missed the table within a narrow centimeter, before dropping to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 chapters.


	11. 11.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: mentions of self-harm. skin carving and face damaging. 
> 
> disclaimer: I have absolutely no clue how a court date goes. especially in these cases. i googled most of the stuff and just know that the process of Sicheng getting a court date was longer than these chapters displayed, because I do know that that is how it works. skfjksfj
> 
> anyways enjoy loves

Yuta felt like all eyes were on him.

The courtroom had filled with people in suits and tight dresses, some holding case files while others held notebooks and laptops. There was an audience behind Yuta, murmuring in Korean, Japanese and Mandarin. Yuta could only understand some of them, his hearing hollow and brain fussy.

His wrists were chained together to prevent Yuta from doing anything stupid. Not like he would. Police officers were guarding the only two doors. Sicheng was going to walk out of one of them. Yuta looked down at the skin on his fingers, scabbed and decorated with dried up blood. There were scars littering his fingers from where he had been digging his nails into it, trying to find distraction among the hours and hours of being locked up in a hotel room with Jongin, nothing else to do other than pick at his skin and read over his letter to Sicheng.

Jongin had told Yuta he would give the letter to one of the police officers that was guarding Sicheng. It had taken Yuta days to write what he wanted to say, express his love for the man and wishing and hoping for them to be together again once more.

The last two sentences of the letter had been the hardest part. Yuta didn’t even want to think about those words anymore. It was a last desert, a plan for when everything else wouldn’t work out.

Yuta lifted his eyes again, watching as the last bit of people drippled into the room. There was no sign of Sicheng yet, to Yuta’s great disappointment, but a wicked grin found its way upon his face when he saw Taeyong enter the room, a neck brace not enough to cover the bruises Yuta had left around his neck. It was satisfying to see that Taeyong had to be supported by what looked like to be a nurse.

Taeyong scanned the room and Yuta grimaced when his eyes landed on him. Taeyong looked shocked for a second before schooling his emotions, moving his eyes along. Yuta stopped looking at him. Instead, he focused his eyes on the other door, guessing that Sicheng would come out of there since he was the ‘criminal’ in this case.

After a couple minutes of people filling the room with hushed voices and casting judgemental stares at the doors, one opened with two police officers walking through, followed by Sicheng.

Yuta gasped, eyes going wide and feet planting themselves on the ground as if he was about to stand up. Jongin seemed to notice, placing a hand on Yuta’s knee to get him to stay seated. The Japanese boy jumped at the contact but listened, staying in his spot as he watched the boy cast his eyes over the room.

Sicheng looked worse for wear. Absolutely horrible. Thin skin falling over sharp cheek bones, eyes dark lined out with thick black bags. His legs were practically sticks and his lips looked incredibly chapped, like he had constantly chewed on them. His hands were shaking rapidly as he was forced to walk forward and Yuta felt like crying as he watched his boyfriend stumble across the room to his seat.

“Sichengie—what did they do to you?” He whispered to himself, eyes following the Chinese boy till he was in his seat. Yuta felt a longing in his chest, burning away the eyes of others on his skin. His hands were itching to touch, to feel. It had been so long since he had seen him, let alone _touch_ him.

Yuta missed him.

He could sense Jongin going rigid at Yuta’s words and the Japanese male looked over to see the other with a grimace on his face. He knew the white coated people hated it when he talked about Sicheng, tried to keep Yuta from doing so, but Yuta didn’t listen. He never did. They claimed they were there to help him but in the end they did nothing. Only tried to make Yuta believe that what Sicheng did was wrong.

“Order!” A loud voice rang through the room, silencing the crowd as the judges, lawyers and the visitors that had come to watch. Yuta fought the urge to yell at them to leave. This was none of their business. Nothing was any of these people’s business, not even the cops were supposed to be there. This court date wasn’t supposed to be happening at all. Yuta was supposed to wake Sicheng up by now, excited that he was allowed to cook breakfast and smother his face with kisses.

Sicheng was supposed to look healthy and Yuta wasn’t supposed to be cuffed.

The judge started talking but all Yuta could focus on was Sicheng. How he kept his head down, eyes on the table in front of him. His hands were cuffed together and bound to the table, his legs twitching in his seat and the Japanese boy wanted to run over and hug him close.

Every now and then when people yelled Yuta would flinch, but for the most part, he stayed focused on Sicheng. They had made eye contact a few times, each and every time making Yuta’s heart skip a beat, before Sicheng would once again look down at the table. Yuta missed him.

Lawyers were spatting sentences back and forth, the judge butting in every now and then. Yuta didn’t bother trying to understand. They were all wrong.

“We found Mister Nakamoto in your client’s house, Mr. Zhang. How are you going to stand here and try and defend Dong Sicheng when he was caught red handed?” Yuta had met their lawyer, Mr. Park, only once. He had showed up to the visitors’ hours just two weeks ago –Yuta had started keeping track of time again. Just for Sicheng—trying to convince Yuta to testify against Sicheng.

The Japanese boy had walked out without asking Jongin for permission to do so and had cried himself to sleep that night, new nail scratches littering his legs and his fingers bleeding. He could never testify against Sicheng. _His_ Sicheng. What did Mr. Park want him to do? Sicheng wasn’t guilty of anything. They were in love and doing just fine. Everyone else ruined it.

Mr. Zhang scoffed, “I am not here to proof my client’s innocence, because he is not. I am trying to show you that, combined with his horrible past and his history of sexual abuse, I pledge for preventive custody combined with a few years in prison. Dong Sicheng is nothing but a messed up young-adult, scarred by the decisions of his biological parents and then right after, his adoptive parents.” Mr Park chuckled, shaking his head.

“Need I remind you that Dong Sicheng _murdered_ his adoptive parents in cold blood? The blood stains are still on the living room floor.” Yuta’s eyes widened. That wasn’t true. Sicheng didn’t murder his adoptive parents. They were killed in a house invasion.

Mr Zhang seemed to think the same. “That is all just speculation, Mr. Park. You have no solid proof of my client ever touching his adoptive parents. That case was ruled a robbery gone wrong and you know that just as well as I do.” Mr Park pursed his lips before turning to look at Taeyong, who had taken the seat Yuta was supposed to sit in. Taeyong had offered to testify against Sicheng in Yuta’s place.

“Regardless of this matter; being sexually abused by his adoptive father does not disregard the things Dong Sicheng has done to Nakamoto Yuta.” Yuta cringed at the mention of his name. Sicheng did nothing to him. “Mr. Lee Taeyong. Yuta and you used to be some sort of–uh—some sort of an item, am I correct?” Taeyong nodded, eyes casting over to look at Sicheng.

Sicheng looked angry and Yuta hated it.

“We were, yes.”

“Judge! How is this relevant to the case?” Mr. Zhang butted in, making the judge sigh into his microphone. “Very relevant, Mr. Zhang. Continue on, Mr. Park.” Mr. Park smiled before turning back to Taeyong. Mr. Zhang sighed before taking a step back once more.

“How different would you say Mr. Nakamoto has become ever since his captivity?” Taeyong stood up, the chair screeching over the floor in the quiet hall. Yuta bit his lip harshly.

“Very different, Mr. Park. Almost unrecognizable.”

“Mr Park, if you are planning to ask Lee Taeyong some questions, I suggest you put him on the stand.” The judge spoke up, making Yuta wanting to scream even louder. Taeyong wasn’t supposed to be on that stand. He had no right to be.

Mr. Park nodded, gesturing Taeyong to the stand. The neck brace around Taeyong’s neck looked painfully tight and Yuta smirked, secretly hoping the boy would suffocate.

“Tell me all about the differences, Mr. Lee.” Taeyong cleared his throat, now clearly audible due to the microphone on the stand. His eyes found a spot in the crowd and Yuta scowled, realizing he was looking at someone behind him.

“Yuta used to be sweet. Loud, energetic. He used to be passionate and had so much energy. So much love to give. He was special in his own way and that is why I loved him so much. But then when I saw him again, he ran toward me with such anger in his eyes it was as if I had been the one to take him from his home, his family, and everything he had ever known,” Taeyong swallowed. Yuta felt unknown emotions raising in his chest, tears suddenly prickling in his eyes. He put it off as anger toward the fact that Taeyong knew him so well.

Yuta also knew his parents were somewhere in this room. His ‘family’ he was taken away from. He couldn’t care less.

“He tried to strangle me. Much like he has tried to do just four weeks ago. That is not the Yuta I knew. The Yuta I knew would have never hurt a fly. I once saw him cry when he realized he had stepped on a ladybug. The Yuta I knew would have never hurt me intentionally. Dong Sicheng has made my Yuta into a monster. I don’t recognize him anymore.” Taeyong fell silent, tears running down his face as he held the banister tight in his grip. From where Yuta was seated, he could see the boy’s knuckles turning white.

“Thank you, Mr. Lee Taeyong.” Mr. Park let Taeyong back to his seat and more spatting and yelling ensued, the judge calming everyone down every once in a while. Yuta no longer paid attention as he shook in his chair, memories that were confusing coming back to him with Taeyong’s words.

He tried to shake them away, shaking his head rapidly. Jongin seemed to notice, taking one of Yuta’s hands in his as he tried to have Yuta do a breathing exercise like they had practiced before. Yuta, however, flinched away with a harsh jerk.

“No—no-no—that that—that can’t—it’s fake! He’s lying!” Yuta yelled, making the two lawyers in the front fall quiet. The room’s eyes were now on him, the boy shaking and screaming in his seat.

“Get him out.” Someone else whispered and Yuta cried out, tugging his hands away as he raised to his feet. His eyes found Sicheng’s and Yuta, without hesitation, made to run into his direction.

He dodged the pair of hands aiming to catch him, holding his hands out to reach Sicheng faster. The Chinese boy was smiling but couldn’t move and Yuta wanted to cry in happiness as he somehow reached the table, able to touch Sicheng’s hand before being pulled away roughly by four strong hands.

“No! let –let me go!—I need to—Sicheng! I love you! Don’t—Don’t forget—me, please.” Yuta cried and screamed as he was being dragged away and out of the room. After the doors closed behind him, all Yuta could see was the face of Sicheng with a smile across his tired features. They needed each other like the sky needed the sun and the water needed the wind. Yuta couldn’t live without him.

“Please, please don’t forget me.” He whispered to himself as he let the people holding him drag him away. Halls passed and Yuta felt number with each step, his brain in complete shut down as he tried to hold on to the feeling of touching Sicheng’s hand again after so long.

 

“You have to let me in, Yuta!” Yuta heard Jongin’s voice from behind the door but he couldn’t care less as he threw the lamp at the wall. He reached for a pillow, tearing the seams and throwing it on the now empty bed. The mattress was against the wall, joined by several broken chairs and part of a mirror Yuta had smashed.

“No! You ruined _everything!_ ” The Japanese boy yelled back before hurling the bedside table at the door. He was sure Jongin was standing on the other side flinching with several other workers and maybe even some hotel and security staff as they listened to Yuta destroy the room.

He didn’t care.

The vase hit the wall just as Yuta cried out loudly, kicking his feet up in the air and screaming at the top of his lungs. He dragged his nails over his already blood-stained face, scratches now adorning the once so pale and soft skin.

“We just want to help, Yuta. Please open the door.” Yuta didn’t even respond, instead threw a glass bottle with soda at the door. He watched it shatter from where he was now stood in the middle of the hotel room, surrounded by broken and completely ravaged furniture. His face was bloody and his wrists were too, the numbers ‘ _25_ ’ carved into his skin.

After Yuta had been dragged out of the courtroom, the case went on like planned. Jongin tried to make Yuta calm down but to no avail. Yuta had finally slightly slowed down his own breathing when police officer Youngho came to tell Jongin that Sicheng had received a twenty-five-year sentence and seven years of preventive custody combined with intense therapy.

Yuta had heard everything and had kept himself calm, trying to fool the people keeping tabs on him that he was okay and at no risk for anyone surrounding him. Once they had reached the hotel room, however, Yuta had rushed to enter the room and locked everybody else out within a split second, his cuffs already long gone from when Jongin took them off in the car.

Twenty-five years. Yuta wasn’t going to be able to see, touch and feel Sicheng again for twenty-five years. All because of what those stupid police officers thought of Sicheng, what they think he has done when he hasn’t done anything but make Yuta happier than he has ever been.

“Fuck off!” Yuta screamed loudly, dropping himself onto the floor. His fingers found their way into his hair, tangling and pulling at the strands. He cried, sobs wrecking his body as he sat there shaking on the floor. Twenty-five years without the love of his life.

“Yuta, let us in right now or we are going to kick in the door.” Yuta didn’t move. He stayed on the floor while the loud bang of the door hitting the floor rang through the room. Two sentences ran through his head like a mantra, the last two sentences he wrote down in the letter Jongin had given to Sicheng.

‘ _When the days become too long and our hearts grow too heavy, can we please agree to meet in heaven? Like we are supposed to be?_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter to go.


	12. 12.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: graphic suicide scene. mention of forced vomiting (it's barely there but i want you guys to be warned) and attempted assault. 
> 
> please. for the love of everything that is holy and your own boundaries; do not read this scene if you are sensitive to this. i don't want you to be hurt. If you do choose to not read this I will respect your decision and not love you any less. thank you for staying for the ride. you're doing amazing and know you are so, so loved. suicide is never the answer. you're worth a spot on this planet.
> 
> [Twinkle Twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHZ_apAW-4c)

The letters were everywhere. Yuta didn’t remember what the colours of his walls used to be, everything covered by coloured pieces of paper, scribbled full with stories and love declarations that were meant to be sent to Sicheng but never left the threshold of Yuta’s room.

Even some pictures had made their way onto the wall. They were mostly the pictures that were taken of the Chinese boy during his trial but Yuta always made sure to kiss every single one before leaving to eat or talk to yet another person in a white coat.

They had given up though, or so Yuta thought. The times Jongin came to get him for anything other than eating, became few and far in between. Yuta spent more time writing, scratching the walls before putting yet another story, yet another love declaration on it. In the two years –Yuta had counted the days accurately this time. He missed Sicheng terribly. – the walls had grown covered; some letters hidden by others. Yuta was running out of space.

The floor was also covered in some places. Words to Sicheng Yuta will never be able to say, will never be able to whisper in Sicheng’s ear, will never be able to scream at him while they fight nor will he ever be able to say them loudly at their wedding.

Yuta had dreamt of that. Their wedding. It would have been a beautiful day, soft music and no one but them and their heartbeats, loving each other under the blue sky with flowers in their hair and sat by a lake.

Yuta knew it was pointless to think about it, but fantasizing about happy, content days helped him. Yuta wanted nothing more than to leave, but he hadn’t been allowed to handle a knife ever since he tried stabbing one of the people working in the canteen where they ate.  That had been three months ago and Yuta knew for a fact that tonight he would finally be able to handle a knife again. Jongin told him so.

And, like Yuta had predicted, Jongin came to get him for dinner and guided him to a seat with both a fork and a knife. He grinned to himself, thankful that Jongin left him alone to eat by himself. No one sat with Yuta and the Japanese boy didn’t mind. At first people would come and sit with him, telling him they knew him from his magazines, photoshoots and commercials he had done.

Yuta never replied. He just continued eating before asking to be taken back to his room, only for then to collapse into a heap onto the floor, memories he hadn’t thought of in what felt like years assaulting his senses and mind.

Yuta didn’t mind eating alone. He listened to the others talking around him while he slipped the dinner knife into his sleeve, holding it with the tips of his fingers so it wouldn’t move while he sat and finished his mashed potatoes. He had finished his meat first. His knife missing wouldn’t even be seen before it was too late.

Yuta smiled again before standing up, waiting for Jongin to notice and walk him back. The man did, leading Yuta back to his room and ushering him inside right after an emergency call rang through his walkie-talkie. Some girl two floors down had tried to puke up her food. This was golden. This was the opportunity Yuta needed. Especially tonight.

Yuta had asked for the case files he was allowed to read. They were tucked under his mattress, safe and sound, after Yuta had gone through them. Today would’ve been Sicheng and his second anniversary. And yet they’re spending it apart.

Yuta looked around, juggling the handle to see if it was really locked. It was. If Yuta had done his calculations right, he would be long gone by the time the white coated people were able to open his door. There was a total of three locks, one of them unlocked by a finger print. Maybe in their panic they wouldn’t even be able to open the door. Yuta hoped that Jongin wouldn’t be with them if they found him. The man was nice. Had done nothing wrong. Yuta didn’t want him to be hurt. Not by his own decision.

The last time Taeyong came to visit him was over a year ago. Yuta remembered it clearly because Taeyong had smiled at him and had _forgiven_ him. Yuta had no idea for what, but Taeyong seemed relieved. And even though Yuta didn’t like him, he was glad that Taeyong looked alright. Hurting Taeyong wouldn’t bring his Sichengie back. And he had realized that. Taeyong had told him that officer Seo and him had gotten together and that Taeyong was in therapy. Yuta had wished him good luck before asking to be escorted back to his room.

Yuta rummaged through his room, looking for an envelope. It was heavy, filled with pictures of Sicheng and a letter Yuta had taken the utmost care for to write. Yuta regretted not rewriting it, without the tear stains and the red drops of blood, but he hadn’t been able to force himself to redo it. This was how it was supposed to be.

Yuta sat down, back to where he knew the camera was. He put the envelope in his lap, wiggling the knife from its hiding place in his sleeve. It was sharp, a meat knife, and Yuta deemed himself lucky for once that the kitchens had decided to eat meat tonight. Normally they would have gotten a normal knife, but meat required sharp ends. Yuta liked sharp ends.

Yuta put the knife down on the ground before taking off his jacket, throwing it to the ground next to him. The first tear came just as Yuta looked up at the ceiling, pictures of Sicheng greeting him wholeheartedly.

The first cut was easy, Yuta had felt it often enough. He sat and felt the liquid dripping down his wrist onto his white pants and he mentally apologized for those who did his laundry. These were ruined.

The cuts after were like coming home. More tears found their way down Yuta’s face and the Japanese boy couldn’t help but laugh at his own pathetic crying. This was the only way.

Yuta had been miserable. Rapidly losing weight, barely sleeping, plagued by what could have been if Sicheng hadn’t opened that door. Two years had gone by so slowly and Yuta was done. He couldn’t live like this anymore.

Sicheng was gone too, so what did it matter?

The report had arrived six weeks ago. Yuta was never supposed to know, he knew that, but he had overheard three people in their white coats talking about it as the Japanese boy was rushed back to his room by Jongin, who seemed affected at the time. When they got their internet time –Yuta hadn’t had any for ages, but his therapist had allowed it this time. At first Yuta had thought it was weird. But now he understood; she had pitied him—Yuta had googled his Sichengie.

Articles after articles had been written about how Sicheng had taken his own life in his prison cell, Yuta’s letter to him from two years ago clutched in his hands. Yuta hadn’t been able to function ever since. He wasn’t sure why he was allowed a knife after that had taken place, but he couldn’t be more grateful.

He was going to meet his Sichengie once more. Yuta was done.

“ _Twinkle twinkle,_  
Little star.  
How I wonder what you are.”

Yuta whispered the words, remembering them from how Sicheng had sung along with the music box so many times. The ballerina was supposed to dance but she wasn’t there anymore. A warm flood of happiness hit Yuta as he felt the knife go deeper, his mind blanking as he thought back to the first night Sicheng and him met.

“ _Up above the world_  
So high.  
Like a diamond  
in the sky.”

Sicheng was his diamond and now a star. Yuta would join him soon. Warm liquid gushed down his arms onto the floor, staining his clothes and the letters he was sat on. Yuta laughed, hard. He could hear noises from outside, people screaming, and Yuta closed his eyes. The edges of his vision were starting to blur, anyway.

“ _When the blazing_  
Sun is gone.  
When there nothing  
Shines upon.

 _Then you show_  
Your little light  
Twinkle twinkle  
All the night

_Though I know  
Not what you are_

__  
Twinkle twinkle  
Little star.”

Yuta knew his star all too well. White covered his eyes, his arms growing tired as he started to lose feeling everywhere. He could hear a door open somewhere in the distance but he did not care. Cold creeped up his veins and Yuta let out one last breath, Sicheng filling his head once more before everything was gone.

“ _Twinkle twinkle_

_Little star._

_How I wonder_

_What you are._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Suicide Hotlines from a few countries I could find. You are not alone. Reach out if you feel like you don't want to live anymore. There is help out there. Please accept it.](https://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines)
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> thank you for reading this. for finishing such a heavy, heavy fic. if you need someone to talk to; my twitter is down below. don't be afraid to reach out. I'm here for you. Thank you for reading something like this that really only formed itself due to my obsession with criminal minds. thank you. i love you. all of you.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave feedback, kudo's or anything else!! I'm curious to know what people think about this. I hope you'll follow me along this journey, but once again, if you feel as if though this story isn't right for you: trust your gut. 
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> find me:
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> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/softyjseo)  
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> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/softyjseo)  
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